Luyện nghe bài hát Round Here

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

[Verse 1: Paul
Knock, knock, who is it? Guess who to pay a visit?
the Mr. Walking 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, livin, Family Guy like Peter Griffin
And my wallet is stuffed like turkeys at
I grind hard, my full like Easter Mass
Paper long, my money stretchin like class
"Get Money", yeah my task, I'm throwed like a piece of trash
My wrists light up like camera flash while commentators in the past
But me and Koopa back on our mash Antoine to Ledbetter
Got more paper than a mail shredder, 'cause here we go getters

[Verse 2:
Chamillitary mayne, who knowin just how I do, so time to turn up your tuner
With radio or not, they talk about me like a rumor (rumor)
And they hope my album will leak on the 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 of the candy blue
We really mean to brag but we legends so act like you knew
That we one notch below Pimp and Screw but we (way higher you)
I'm skatin, no Daytons, with Wall to plate and (plate and)
Ya must've got us mistaken 'cause ain't no play-action (fakin)
Earthquakin, trunk (shakin), the realest in my state and (say what?)
The treat me like I'm God, be like As-Salamu Alaykum, so vacant

[Verse 3: Paul
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, be amazed, all haters can suck on these
Me and back in the game, I'm Reggie Bush, he's Drew Brees
I run the mic and he's so throwed, now all the blogs are quite
'Cause they thought we fell off like dry and bad weave
"Get Ya Mind Correct" please, my wrist cold like winter
'Cause I'm grindin up all night like little on Christmas Eve
I keep the on deck like a lawn chair
The wristware give off a glare, so when ya stare, do so with
here we one hundred but them boys far from it
Everyday I'm in the paper like the comics, how we do it here