Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

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

[Hook: 50
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 One: Banks - singing]
They can't me
I'm Lloyd the one and on-ly
Not your buddy, not your pal, not ho-mey
But ain't a government around that can me
Oh no!!!

Uhh, I'm on "Doggystyle" shit, man I don't love a ho
Poppa wasn't 'round, so I had to let my brother
stay at center, play the back and let your money grow
Most niggas wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah that's where I from
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 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 niggas sick
But I can care less, I'm on the Island and I'm gettin

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

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

[Verse 50 Cent]
I got a habit, nigga front I'll let you have it
When the shots go off, cops sayin 50 at it
I'm to the feathers on these bird-ass niggas (yea)
Front and I'll put your brains on that fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, one spark and I spray
Nuff rounds from that H-K, I don't play (uh-huh)
Move like I'm militant, back on that gorilla
Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but niggas can't me (yea)
I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if it's a problem handled
I have your pourin our liquor and lightin candles
You fuck I blow your brains on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the section and read your mind
It's crystal clear, you should when that 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