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 shots or die

Get 'em Banks!

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

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

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

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

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