Luyện nghe bài hát Rec-Room Therapy

Ight, now, is how we gon' do this shit
You know what I'm Niggaz wasn't out in the streets back then
When was doing this son, you know what I mean?
Yeah, check the

I done bags of powder down project toilets
You could of found of me on the steps dusted, to call it
in my pocket, the rental was stolen, tapping pockets
On the local drug dealers, just to see what they
I know, niggaz with crack viles stuck to colon

The acid, done up, now they stomach's is swollen
That just, in the hood, surrounded class, who we bag in our stash
The ultraviolet haze, we hit it and
We toast to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old hump
We rap renegades, must paid

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Big fluffed out on, Stan Smiths
The housing cops can suck our dicks, we out
Of convertible matchbox shit, next drip
Chilling, my frozen, my orange brick

Bottles of Cru, bitches with Baby Phats, they ax
singing, you still blinging, daddy, now bring it back
The smokest rap niggas, honey, need a match
To bust the game wide open, I'mma an axe

I juggle this, practice, smuggle in the cactus
Keep a hood, I go and fuck a fat bitch
Actress, slinging the backs of five
A cocaine Chef, I money like elastic
Nigga, my raps is bigger, dynamics with the advantage
Jake Cutler on dust, when I blam

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Yo, we been bagging since eighteen, kid, polo rugs on with on
cars, fronting on winning broads
Gum slow, half moon, pants, Avia days
Keep your hands off my and my waves

Benetton, Superman bomb, in the lobby, we clapping
on, protecting your moms, you know how we play
Spray something down if the say
on, I dedicate my lines to the PJ's
Triple beams, jars, smoking nickle weeds
All we did is mad fly, icicle rings

Whatever homeboy, you want it, you could get receipt
A little closer, you can we got heat
It's only me plus other ill gangstas
We all anxious to blow up your block and shit

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

I'm for the get down, hit the town, sick the bloodhounds on 'em
I rip clowns, I pounds, I spit rounds
I'm on the prowl, my stomach growl, by the crowd
Rush through Loud Records, drop mushroom
I'm not a rapper, I'm spellbound, I melt down your
With heat walks, falling to a better money, bet he's hungry

the honey, big head inside the Humvee
Mix lead inside my lungies, bread on my Dungarees
And such and such, Ghost plugged me this slut
Please, don't hug me, bug me, I'm ugly when I
I'm hard like a jungle hunter, off in Heather

Double cross me, lift your boss off your feet, 'course he's
Whatever, whatever, he independence
Tennis players get fried, both sides of the ends
Keep your eyes on your friends, 'cuz spy for the feds
Watch me from the dead, I got ties with the dreads

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)

Get
(Get money)
Get money,
(Get money)