Luyện nghe bài hát Some L.a. Niggaz

Yeah nigga, MC Ren up in motherfucker
(West y'all)
Yeah, L.A.
L.A. niggas rule the nigga
niggas gotta recognize, yaknahmsayin?
Niggas wanna peep game, yaknahmsayin?
But this shit all the way back around here
My nigga Dre, heat box on y'all bitch-ass
You gotta recognize
L.A. niggas, all over the motherfucking world, nigga
this; peep game

Now in my younger I used to sport a rag
Backpack full of cans plus a mag
G'd up the feet up
Blue'd up from the shoe up's how I up
Loc'n, and drinkin' til we threw up (threw up)
At Park, taggin', hittin' fools up
Ditching my class, to fuck yo' school up
You don't blast, nigga tuck yo' tool up
But don't sleep, y'all niggas to shoot you
Now another motherfucker with no future
But Time Bomb much smoother when I maneuver, like Cuba
Got em jumpin Disciples to the

I'm "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose cannon
Smoke big green, call it Banner
Watch your manners, at another blast from the top notch
From way with the pop rocks, I pop lock witcha
Picture this, Dr. Dre twisting wit Tha
And Hittman a fix
Don't trip, it's a Time Bomb in bitch
Here it tick tick tick {*BOOM*}
Wait a it's on, I tell it like a true mackadelic
Weed and cocaine separate, check it
sundown to sunup -- clown and run up
The Aftermath'll be two in gut, nigga what?

We roll deep, on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival day in L.A.!
It stop, we still mash in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act way in L.A.!

Gimme that mic fool, it's a West coast jack
call me Hitt cause I spit like gats do
Cock me
Bust caps for my max crew, at
Who used to wear Air Max shoes, true
But I grew up where niggas jack you, you
you, for that set you claim (where you from?)
Mash on you for Turkish chain, C.K. B.K
Blue'd up or flame, I ran wit a
I helped get, jacked for they Dana Dane's
My pants hang my waistline
I look humble wanna (yeah yeah)
I bang though, like Carter from the baseline
Don't my time
Fuck a scrap in killa Cali, and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on

I was in the hood called WHAT-THE-DIF'
Where the brothers in the hood, to go Hollywood
Slugs for the of it
Anybody hatin' on us can suck a
If I catch you touching mine you catch a flat-line, dead on the
Better than yours, driving gettin' head from a whore
It's
Fuckin' me might get you banned from TV
and CD it's all mine the whole nine the right time
Multiply, we don't die, the don't lie
What, so neither do I, I'm bad for your
puttin' a pistol up to your face and blastin' yourself

Five in the mornin', at my do'
Glock forty-five in my dresser
Let 'em come in BLAOW he see the thunder
Roll with niggas, who buy by the fo'
And brew's by the
SLAP YOU in the face with the bass, Dr. Dre
Likwit Kings wit Sedans and rings
fold the style, but can't find no openings

We roll deep, on weed drink and pack heat
Requirements for survival day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still in hot pursuit from the cops
Analyze why we act way in L.A.!

In L.A

how we ride