Luyện nghe bài hát Round Here

[Chorus: (Paul Wall)]
Guess it's a hood thing, woodgrain, grippin on the Friday*
My lookin like the sun
Swag turned way up, maybe 'cause I'm up, stay plush
I don't where y'all came from
But that's how we do (that's-that's how we do it 'round here)
That's how we do it 'round (that's-that's how we do it 'round here)
how we do (that's-that's how we do it 'round here)
That's how we do it 'round here (that's-that's-that's-that's-that's how we do it here)
how we do

[Verse 1: Wall]
Knock, knock, who is it? who come to pay a visit?
It's the Mr. Walking Blizzard, the "here lizard, lizard"
Flyer than a of pigeons, the earlobes are vivid
But if you try to test, you'll get smoked a brisket
palace, fast livin, Family Guy like Peter Griffin
And my wallet is stuffed like turkeys at
I grind hard, my pockets like Easter Mass
Paper long, my money like yoga class
"Get Money", yeah that's my task, I'm throwed a piece of trash
My wrists light up like flash while commentators live in the past
But me and Koopa back on our mash from to Ledbetter
Got more paper than a mail shredder, 'round here we go getters

[Verse 2:
Chamillitary mayne, who knowin just how I do, so time to turn up your tuner
With play or not, they talk about me like a rumor (rumor)
And they hope my will leak on the streets and come sooner (sooner)
I now renounce my throne as the King of
Hollywood, not true, been sick,
The of the "what it do, " where the Don Kings of the candy blue
We don't really mean to brag but we legends so act like you
That we one notch below Pimp and Screw but we (way higher you)
I'm skatin, no Daytons, with Paul Wall to and (plate and)
Ya must've got us mistaken 'cause no play-action fakin (fakin)
Earthquakin, trunk shakin (shakin), the realest in my and (say what?)
The me like I'm God, they be like As-Salamu Alaykum, so vacant

[Verse 3: Wall]
here the grind pays, it's all work and no play
My thick like Deltas and my Sprite's pink like AKA's
Brace yourself, you'll be amazed, all haters can on these
Me and Cham back in the game, I'm Bush, he's Drew Brees
I run the mic and he's so throwed, now all the blogs are pleased
'Cause they thought we fell off like dry and bad weave
"Get Ya Correct" please, my wrist cold like winter breeze
'Cause I'm grindin up all night like kids on Christmas Eve
I keep the stacks on deck a lawn chair
The wristware give off a glare, so ya stare, do so with care
'Round here we one hundred but boys far from it
Everyday I'm in the paper the comics, how we do it 'round here