Luyện nghe bài hát Rollin'

Nineteen ninety mother six
That's that though
Get the motherfuckin Squad
We got to pull these out like carpet, word is bond
Test the with the guns and let's get this shit on

Why, must I be that? Why, must I pack the gat?
On my left, niggaz be with the ruckus
Ready to get bust rounds upon some suckaz
Heard PPP and LOD is a of crazy motherfuckers
Journey to the is on
The winner of the spittin marathon
The fuck you up lyrathon, you choose
prepare to lose that
Turnin vital situations suicidal, my idols, is my
who started smokin weed bibles
Gave me a when I bust my first rifle
Men-estration cycles, I bitches
your craziest nigga, I'll give stitches
Whateva, go for crew, blow for blow
your headpiece and sniff the snow off your hoe
I it rollin

Ask man
How ugly do you have to be to be a MC?
Niggaz be fooled by my plaques and my light skin
My whole is bombin, destroyin da schools of the wack
From the Land of the Lost, you get
to my veloc(ity), my crew's comin off
Yeah, more sneaky than switches
ditches for all Moskino bitches
Clockin decimal figures, I'm gettin out
Now my choice of is a Land
cause a Landcruise much
It pack two to more niggaz
Damn I a golddigger
Yeah, gimme that
I make opponents shit bricks like home
I keep the jacked phone blown in three zones
seafood and keep my nine millimis chrome
So it can shine up your
When I proceed to you what you need and clear spots like Sea Breeze
Wreckin ass armaggedeon style
Twenty seven while
My crew chin check your
(Rollin)

I'm the master of disaster, super rhyme
Grimy by nature, maker
Play em out like Sega,
Blow your blocks in patterns for about nine
Testes, crew wearin and double S's
Karl Kani down, can't hide the sounds
of a fo' (boo-yaa)
Givin you Six Flags, bustin merry go
But my crew stay ill with unreal appeal
I be the raw water, my cheek bones outta have
below the opera
Smooth on the trigger for all you cockers
I be the key to
Blast and enemies at three buck sixty
me, as your Senator
Take the dove your battlefield son, fuck Pat Benatar
Run, for the hills
Back in the day, these niggaz up on me with
the filled with Bomber Brooklyns, sheeps and quartervilles
take that shit, aiyyo Money snap the grill
Body caught as he ate this nine mil
Mine two but my nine was sign sealed
And ready to deliver, but had me too close
to reach for toast, soon as that nigga I broke ghost
Dash back to South Ave with dollar bill to smoke dope
I em rollin