Luyện nghe bài hát Round Here

[Chorus: (Paul Wall)]
Guess it's just a hood thing, woodgrain, grippin on the
My chain like the sun
Swag turned way up, maybe I'm draped up, stay plush
I know where y'all came from
But that's just how we do (that's-that's how we do it here)
how we do it 'round here (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 here (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? 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 like a
Last palace, fast livin, Family Guy Peter Griffin
And my is stuffed like turkeys at Thanksgiving
I grind hard, my pockets full Easter Mass
Paper long, my money like yoga class
"Get Money", yeah that's my task, I'm like a piece of trash
My wrists light up like camera flash commentators live in the past
But me and Koopa on our mash from Antoine to Ledbetter
Got more paper than a mail shredder, 'cause 'round here we go

[Verse 2:
Chamillitary mayne, who knowin just how I do, so it's to turn up your tuner
With radio play or not, they about me like a rumor (rumor)
And they hope my album 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 of the candy 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 to plate and (plate and)
Ya must've got us 'cause ain't no play-action fakin (fakin)
Earthquakin, trunk shakin (shakin), the in my state and (say what?)
The treat me like I'm God, they be As-Salamu Alaykum, so vacant

[Verse 3: Paul
'Round here the grind pays, all work and no play
My pockets thick like and my Sprite's pink like AKA's
Brace yourself, you'll be amazed, all 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 are quite pleased
'Cause they thought we fell off like dry and bad weave
"Get Ya Mind Correct" please, my wrist like winter breeze
'Cause I'm grindin up all like little kids on Christmas Eve
I keep the stacks on deck a lawn chair
The give off a glare, so when ya stare, do so with care
'Round here we one hundred but boys far from it
I'm in the paper like the comics, how we do it 'round here