Luyện nghe bài hát Rollin'

Nineteen mother fuckin six
That's shit though
Get the Squad packed
We got to these shoes out like carpet, word is bond
Test the crew with the guns and let's get shit on

Why, must I be like Why, must I pack the gat?
On my left, niggaz be with the ruckus
Ready to get deep bust rounds upon suckaz
Heard PPP and LOD is a bunch of motherfuckers
Journey to the is on
The of the spittin bomb marathon
The fuck you up lyrathon, you choose
prepare to lose that
Turnin vital situations suicidal, my idols, is my
who started smokin outta bibles
Gave me a puff when I bust my rifle
Men-estration cycles, I give
your craziest nigga, I'll give stitches
Whateva, go for crew, blow for blow
Bang your headpiece and 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 complexture
My texture is bombin, destroyin da schools of the wack
the Land of the Lost, you get tossed
Listen to my veloc(ity), my crew's off
Yeah, more sneaky than switches
Diggin ditches for all bitches
Clockin decimal figures, I'm out diggers
Now my choice of is a Land
cause a Landcruise much
It pack two to three niggaz
Damn I a golddigger
Yeah, gimme that
I make opponents shit bricks like Tyson's
I keep the jacked cellular blown in three zones
Love seafood and my nine millimis chrome
So it can shine up your
When I proceed to give you what you need and spots like Sea Breeze
Wreckin your ass style
Twenty four while
My crew chin check your
(Rollin)

I'm the of disaster, super rhyme maker
Grimy by nature, database
em out like Sega, Saturn
Blow your blocks in patterns for nine acres
Testes, crew wearin and double S's
Karl Kani down, camoflouge hide the sounds
of a fo' (boo-yaa)
Givin you Six Flags, bustin go rounds
But my crew stay ill with that unreal
I be the raw water, my cheek bones outta have
like the opera
Smooth on the for all you block cockers
I be the key to
Blast and rotate enemies at buck sixty
me, as your Senator
Take the dove from your battlefield son, fuck Pat
Run, for the hills
Back in the day, niggaz rolled up on me with
the trunk filled with Bomber Brooklyns, and quartervilles
Aiyyo take that shit, aiyyo snap the grill
Body caught as he ate this nine mil
Mine kills two but my was sign sealed
And to deliver, but Money had me too close
to reach for toast, soon as nigga blink I broke ghost
Dash to South Orange Ave with dollar bill to smoke dope
I em rollin