Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

[50
Yeah, I like the way feel
make me wanna just (G-G-G-G, G-Unit!)
Buck somethin, (G-UNIT!)

50 Cent]
Nigga you shit on me, I on you
You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you
An eye for an eye
Survive the or die nigga

Get 'em Banks!

[Verse Lloyd Banks - singing]
They hold me
I'm Lloyd Banks the one and
Not buddy, not your pal, not your ho-mey
But ain't a around that can control me
Oh no!!!

Uhh, I'm on that "Doggystyle" shit, man I don't a ho
wasn't 'round, so I had to let my brother know
Never stay at center, play the back and let your money
Most them niggas be around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah that's where I come
If you see a nigga with me then there's than one gun
Fly straight soldier, tired of bein the dumb one
Or are you satisfied bein another nigga's
We all know friendships turnin sour you gettin it
niggas hate me in the hood, but I don't owe them niggas shit
Smilin all up my like I don't know them niggas sick
But I can care less, I'm on the and I'm gettin rich

[Verse Two: Young
Walk it and talk it, it how I live it nigga
Came from the country, Dirty South get it
Feds try and question me, they run up in my
They said was a shootin, but they found no shells
New York City hell throwin niggas under jails
I got love for dem and I even from dere
Now bust a shot for dem boys on da
I can feel your pain nigga, I'm still in the game
There's somethin bout the of a trey-pound
That make me pull up, hop out, and a nigga lay down
See every we 'round, you hear some shots go off
And niggas get they chains snatched when they to show off
in broad day, we do it the mob way
And come to find out, these niggas softer than
I'mma keep livin my with a pistol in my palm
And a full of ice, you can call me a Don motherfucker

[Interlude:
We got the
So make one wrong move and dy-ing
Ain't no time for coppin a and cry-ing
Cause my niggas ain't stop ridin'
So you

[Verse Three: 50
I got a handgun habit, front I'll let you have it
the shots go off, cops sayin 50 back at it
I'm allergic to the feathers on these niggas (yea)
Front and I'll put your brains on that fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, one and I spray shit
Nuff from that H-K, I don't play bitch (uh-huh)
Move like I'm militant, back on that shit
Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but niggas move me (yea)
I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if a problem it's handled
I have your people pourin our liquor and lightin
You fuck I blow your brains on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the sports section and read mind
It's crystal clear, you should feel when gat bust
First there's crime scene tape, then you end up in black hearse
We don't go to funerals, but go to your wake fam
Do your all banged up, you made a mistake man