Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

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

[Hook: 50
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 hold me
I'm Lloyd Banks the one and
Not buddy, not your pal, not your ho-mey
But ain't a government that can control 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
Never stay at center, play the back and let your money
them niggas wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah where I come from
If you see a nigga me then there's more than one gun
Fly straight soldier, ain'tcha of bein the dumb one
Or are you satisfied bein another Dun-Dunn
We all know turnin sour when you gettin it
niggas hate me in the hood, but I don't owe them niggas shit
Smilin all up my face like I don't them niggas 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, Dirty get it nigga
Feds try and question me, run up in my ho-tel
They said there was a shootin, but they no shells
New York City hell they niggas under jails
I got love for dem and I ain't 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 make me pull up, hop out, and make a lay down
See every we 'round, you hear some shots go off
And niggas get they chains when they tryin to show off
in broad day, we do it the mob way
And come to out, these niggas softer than Sade'
I'mma keep livin my 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 and you're dy-ing
Ain't no for coppin a plea and cry-ing
Cause my niggas ain't gon' ridin'
So you

[Verse Three: 50
I got a handgun habit, nigga front I'll let you it
the shots go off, cops sayin 50 back at it
I'm allergic to the feathers on these bird-ass (yea)
Front and I'll put your brains on curb fast nigga
I a marksman, one spark and I spray shit
Nuff rounds from that H-K, I don't bitch (uh-huh)
Move like I'm militant, back on gorilla shit
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 people our liquor and lightin candles
You fuck I blow your brains on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the sports section and read mind
It's clear, you should feel when that gat bust
First crime scene tape, then you end up in that black hearse
We go to funerals, but we'll go to your wake fam
Do your all banged up, you made a mistake man