Luyện nghe bài hát Referee

[Chorus: T.O.]
Now all these bitches want me for some fame
why I don't trust 'em I just pass 'em to the gang
We be slidin' through them jets you niggas don't hang
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 out wit' TECs
you know about pain?
Never met a referee couldn't tell me 'bout the game
I lost my nigga to some
Now we slidin' tryna make a nigga stop
I know my grandma hurtin' she lost her son
And the cops why a nigga got a gun
I my momma worried 'bout her son
But these niggas know it I am not the one

1: Yhung T.O.]
We tripin' off no nerds
Nigga a move, we ain't trippin' off no words
Bitch I got money, I ain't trippin' off yo'
And the Lord know my so I ain't trippin' off no church
I ain't trippin' off no sins that I know that I
I ain't 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 my heart on my shoulder
Now straight up in the wind so my heart got
Say they want me dead, gotta watch for the
You niggas never emptying guns you just loader
I try to tell DaBoii keep your open
They gon' try an knock you off so that iron on you
I rather slide wit' you not to slide for you
And keep on the verses 'cause we countin' on you

[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 then that's what we gon' bring
And I'ma die for my
Slidin', gang members out wit' TECs
Nigga, I'ma die for my
Slidin', gang members hoppin' out TECs
you know about pain?
Never met a referee that couldn't me 'bout the game
I lost my nigga to gunshots
Now we slidin' tryna make a 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

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

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