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 on me, I shit on you
You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you
An eye for an eye
Survive the shots or die

Get 'em Banks!

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

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

[Verse Two: Buck]
Walk it and talk it, spit it how I live it
from the country, Dirty South get it nigga
Feds try and me, they run up in my ho-tel
They said there was a shootin, but found no shells
New York City hell they throwin under jails
I got for dem and I ain't even from dere
Now bust a for dem boys on da block
I can feel your pain nigga, I'm in the game nigga
There's somethin the sound of a trey-pound
make me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay down
See every time we 'round, you hear some go off
And niggas get chains snatched when they tryin to show off
Shootouts in day, we do it the mob way
And come to find out, these niggas softer Sade'
I'mma keep livin my life a pistol in my palm
And a wrist full of ice, you can me a Don motherfucker

singing]
We got the
So make one wrong move and you're
Ain't no for coppin a plea and cry-ing
Cause my ain't gon' stop ridin'
So you

[Verse Three: 50
I got a habit, nigga front I'll let you have it
When the shots go off, cops 50 back at it
I'm allergic to the on these bird-ass niggas (yea)
and I'll put your brains on that curb fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, one spark and I spray
Nuff rounds from 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 candles
You fuck around I your brains on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the sports section and your mind
crystal clear, you should feel when that gat bust
First there's crime scene tape, then you end up in that hearse
We don't go to funerals, but we'll go to wake fam
Do body all banged up, you made a mistake man