Luyện nghe bài hát Round Here

[Chorus: (Paul Wall)]
Guess it's just a hood thing, woodgrain, on the Friday*
My lookin like the sun
Swag turned way up, 'cause I'm draped 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)
That's how we do (that's-that's how we do it 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: Paul
Knock, knock, who is it? who come to pay a visit?
It's the Mr. Blizzard, with the "here lizard, lizard"
Flyer than a of pigeons, the earlobes are vivid
But if you try to test, you'll get like a brisket
Last palace, fast livin, Guy like Peter Griffin
And my wallet is stuffed like at Thanksgiving
I hard, my pockets full like Easter Mass
Paper long, my money stretchin like class
"Get Money", that's my task, I'm throwed like a piece of trash
My wrists light up like camera flash while commentators live in the
But me and Koopa back on our mash from Antoine to
Got more paper than a shredder, 'cause 'round here we go getters

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

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