Luyện nghe bài hát Rollin'

Nineteen ninety fuckin six
that shit though
Get the motherfuckin Squad
We got to pull shoes out like carpet, word is bond
Test the crew with the guns and get this shit on

Why, must I be like that? Why, must I the gat?
On my left, be rollin with the ruckus
Ready to get deep bust rounds upon suckaz
Heard PPP and LOD is a bunch of crazy
Journey to the is on
The of the spittin bomb marathon
The fuck you up lyrathon, whatever you
prepare to lose that
Turnin vital situations suicidal, my idols, is my
who smokin weed outta bibles
Gave me a puff when I bust my first
cycles, I give bitches
Bring craziest nigga, I'll give stitches
Whateva, go crew for crew, blow for
Bang your and sniff the snow off your hoe
I keep it

Ask man
How do you have to be to be a hardcore MC?
Niggaz be fooled by my plaques and my light skin
My whole texture is bombin, da schools of the wack
From the of the Lost, you get tossed
Listen to my veloc(ity), my crew's off
Yeah, more sneaky casino switches
Diggin ditches for all bitches
decimal figures, I'm gettin out diggers
Now my choice of truck is a
cause a much bigger
It pack two to more niggaz
Damn I hate a
Yeah, gimme microphone
I make opponents shit bricks Tyson's home
I the jacked cellular phone blown in three zones
Love seafood and keep my nine chrome
So it can shine up your
When I proceed to give you what you need and clear like Sea Breeze
Wreckin your ass style
four seven while
My crew chin check profile
(Rollin)

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