Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

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

[Hook: 50
you shit 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 or die nigga

Get 'em Banks!

[Verse One: Banks - singing]
can't hold me
I'm Lloyd the one and on-ly
Not your buddy, not your pal, not your
But ain't a around that can control 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 know
Never 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 I come from
If you see a nigga with me then there's more one gun
Fly straight soldier, ain'tcha tired of the dumb one
Or are you satisfied bein another nigga's
We all know turnin sour when you gettin it
Some niggas hate me in the hood, but I 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 Island and I'm rich

[Verse Two: Buck]
Walk it and it, spit it how I live it nigga
Came from the country, Dirty South get it
try and question me, they run up in my ho-tel
They said was a shootin, but they found no shells
New York City hell they throwin niggas 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 still in the game
There's somethin 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 they snatched when they tryin to show off
in broad day, we do it the mob way
And come to find out, niggas softer than Sade'
I'mma keep my life with a pistol in my palm
And a wrist full of ice, you can call me a Don

[Interlude:
We got the
So make one wrong move and dy-ing
no time for coppin a plea and cry-ing
Cause my niggas gon' stop ridin'
So you

[Verse Three: 50
I got a handgun habit, nigga front I'll let you it
When the 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 curb nigga
I ain't a marksman, one and I spray shit
Nuff rounds from that H-K, I play bitch (uh-huh)
like I'm militant, back on that gorilla shit
Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but can't move me (yea)
I 'til I run out of ammo, if it's a problem it's handled
I have your people pourin our and lightin candles
You fuck around I blow brains on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the sports section and read your
It's crystal clear, you should 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 your fam
Do your body all up, you made a mistake man