Luyện nghe bài hát Referee

[Chorus: T.O.]
Now days all these bitches want me for some
That's why I don't trust 'em I just 'em to the gang
We be slidin' through them jets where you niggas don't
If a want smoke then that's what we gon' bring
And I'ma die for my
Slidin', gang members out wit' TECs
Nigga, die for my respect
Slidin', gang members hoppin' out wit'
you know about pain?
Never met a referee that couldn't me 'bout the game
I lost my to some gunshots
Now we tryna make a nigga lungs stop
I my grandma hurtin' 'cause she lost her son
And the wonder why a nigga got a gun
I know my momma worried her son
But niggas know it momma I am not the one

1: Yhung T.O.]
We ain't tripin' off no
Nigga make a move, we ain't off no words
Bitch I got money, I trippin' off yo' purse
And the know my heart so I ain't trippin' off no church
I ain't trippin' off no that I know that I committed
I trippin' off the pen
shit a game, you ain't trippin' off yo' head
Brodie bro be off drugs, he be trippin' off the meg
They say I wear my on my shoulder
Now straight up in the so my heart got colder
Say want me dead, gotta watch for the vultures
You niggas never emptying guns you just loader
I try to tell DaBoii keep eyes open
They gon' try an knock you off so keep iron on you
I rather slide wit' you not to slide for you
And keep killin' on the 'cause we countin' on you

[Chorus: T.O.]
Now days all these bitches want me for some
That's why I trust 'em I just pass 'em to the gang
We be slidin' through them jets where you don't hang
If a want smoke then that's what we gon' bring
And I'ma die for my
Slidin', gang members hoppin' out wit'
Nigga, die for my respect
Slidin', gang hoppin' out wit' TECs
What you know about
Never met a referee that couldn't tell me 'bout the
I lost my nigga to gunshots
Now we slidin' tryna make a nigga lungs
I know my grandma hurtin' she lost her son
And the cops wonder why a got a gun
I know my momma 'bout her son
But these niggas it momma I am not the one

2: DaBoii]
I'ma die for my
Slidin' gang members out wit' TECs
Up top ain't no reason for a vest
What we spent on these guns half of would be in debt
So stop talkin' like you slidin' when you know you that dumb
Try and my chain naw bitch I ain't for none
Wit' this Glock 27, I'll take a nigga
Heard niggas want beef, I'll it for fun
We ain't wit' you niggas, might as well stop talkin'
coppin' pleas lil' nigga stop callin'
Broke ass nigga, find a hustle, ballin'
We want all the smoke yeah bitch we all it
Over T.O. bitch I'm trippin' long Scottie Pippin
Speakin' on brodie you gon' have to pay a visit
All up in yo' section, I askin' for permission
Bullets wit' my name on it pussy come and send it
Bitch!

[Chorus: T.O.]
Now days all these bitches me for some fame
That's why I don't trust 'em I pass 'em to the gang
We be through them jets where you niggas don't hang
If a nigga want smoke then that's what we bring
And I'ma die for my
Slidin', gang members hoppin' out TECs
Nigga, I'ma die for my
Slidin', gang members hoppin' out TECs
What you know about
Never met a referee that couldn't tell me 'bout the
I lost my to some gunshots
Now we slidin' make a nigga lungs stop
I know my grandma hurtin' she lost her son
And the cops why a nigga got a gun
I know my momma 'bout her son
But these niggas it momma I am not the one