Luyện nghe bài hát Rec-Room Therapy

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

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

The acid, bubbled up, now they stomach's is swollen
just, life in the hood, surrounded class, who we bag in our stash
The haze, we hit it and pass
We toast to the Ghost of old days, yeah, old ager
We rap renegades, stay paid

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

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

Big out gooses on, Stan Smiths
The housing can suck our dicks, we jumping out
Of convertible shit, next drip inhaling
Chilling, my throat frozen, my orange

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

I juggle this, practice, heroin in the cactus
Keep a hood, I still go and fuck a fat
Actress, slinging the of five Cleopatra's
A Chef, I stretch money like elastic
Nigga, my raps is bigger, dynamics with the advantage
Jake Cutler on dust, when I shit

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

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

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

Benetton, Superman bomb, everybody in the lobby, we
on, protecting your moms, you know how we play
Spray down if the team say
It's on, I dedicate my lines to the
Triple beams, Pyrex jars, nickle weeds
All we did is look mad fly, icicle

Whatever homeboy, you want it, you could get your
A closer, you can sense we got heat
It's only me four other ill gangstas
We all anxious to blow up your and spank 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, mushroom clouds
I'm not a rapper, I'm spellbound, I melt down your
With heat walks, free to a better money, bet he's hungry

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

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

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

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