Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

[50
Yeah, I like the way this
This 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 Lloyd 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 that can 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 your grow
Most them wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighbor that's where I come from
If you see a nigga with me there's more than 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 don't owe niggas shit
all up my face like I don't know them niggas sick
But I can care less, I'm on the Island and I'm gettin

[Verse Young Buck]
Walk it and talk it, spit it how I live it
from the country, Dirty South get it nigga
Feds try and question me, run up in my ho-tel
They said was a shootin, but they found no shells
New York City hell they throwin 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 the sound of a trey-pound
That me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay down
See every time we 'round, you some shots go off
And niggas get they chains when they tryin to show off
Shootouts in day, we do it the mob way
And come to find out, these niggas softer than
I'mma livin 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 you're
Ain't no time for coppin a plea and
my niggas ain't gon' stop ridin'
So you

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