Luyện nghe bài hát Round Here

[Chorus: (Paul Wall)]
Guess it's just a thing, woodgrain, grippin on the Friday*
My lookin like the sun
turned way up, maybe 'cause I'm draped up, stay plush
I don't know where y'all came
But that's just how we do (that's-that's how we do it 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 (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 come to pay a
It's the Mr. Blizzard, with the "here lizard, lizard"
Flyer than a flock of pigeons, the earlobes are
But if you try to test, get smoked like a brisket
Last palace, fast livin, Family Guy like Peter
And my wallet is like turkeys at Thanksgiving
I grind hard, my pockets like Easter Mass
Paper long, my money stretchin like class
"Get Money", yeah that's my task, I'm throwed like a piece of
My wrists light up like camera flash while live in the past
But me and Koopa back on our from Antoine to Ledbetter
Got paper than a mail shredder, 'cause 'round here we go getters

[Verse 2:
Chamillitary mayne, who knowin just how I do, so it's time to up your tuner
With radio play or not, talk about me like a rumor (rumor)
And they hope my album will leak on the streets and sooner (sooner)
I now my throne as the King of Zamunda
Hollywood, not true, been sick,
The inventors of the "what it do, " the Don Kings of the candy blue
We don't really mean to brag but we so act like you knew
That we one notch below Pimp and Screw but we (way than you)
I'm skatin, no Daytons, with Paul Wall to and (plate and)
Ya must've got us mistaken ain't no play-action fakin (fakin)
Earthquakin, shakin (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: Wall]
'Round here the grind pays, 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 suck on
Me and Cham back in the game, I'm Reggie Bush, he's Brees
I run the mic and so throwed, now all the blogs are quite pleased
'Cause they thought we off like dry scalp and bad weave
"Get Ya Mind Correct" please, my wrist like winter breeze
'Cause I'm grindin up all night like little kids on Eve
I the stacks on deck like a lawn chair
The wristware give off a glare, so when ya stare, do so with
'Round here we one hundred but them far from it
Everyday I'm in the paper the comics, how we do it 'round here