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
Y'all niggas gotta recognize,
Niggas don't wanna peep game,
But this shit all the way back around here
My nigga Dre, droppin' box on y'all bitch-ass
Yaknahmsayin? You 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 plus a four-four mag
G'd up from the up
Blue'd up from the shoe how I grew up
Loc'n, smokin' and drinkin' til we up (threw up)
At Leimert Park, taggin', hittin' up
Ditching my class, just to fuck yo' up
You don't wanna blast, nigga tuck yo' up
But don't sleep, y'all niggas quick to you
Now there's another with no future
But Bomb much smoother when I maneuver, dope like Cuba
Got em Disciples to the Hoover

I'm coming "Straight Outta Compton" with a loose
big green, call it Bruce Banner
Watch your manners, at last another 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 Bomb in this bitch
Here it tick tick tick {*BOOM*}
Wait a minute it's on, I tell it a true mackadelic
Weed and cocaine sold separate, it
sundown to sunup -- clown and run up
The Aftermath'll be two in your gut, what?

We roll deep, smoke on weed drink and pack
for survival each day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still mash in hot pursuit the cops
why we act this way in L.A.!

Gimme that mic fool, it's a coast jack move
They call me Hitt cause I spit gats do
Cock me
Bust for my max crew, at Fairfax
Who used to wear Air Max shoes, true
But I grew up where niggas jack you, you
Blast you, for that set you (where you from?)
on you for your 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 wanna rumble? (yeah yeah)
I bang though, like Vince Carter the baseline
Don't my time
Fuck a in killa Cali, AK's and 9's
One-time's, sun-shines, and fine-ass
Hawaiian Thai, drive-bys, six-fo's on

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

in the mornin', burglars at my do'
Glock in my dresser drawer
Let 'em come in BLAOW he see the roll
with niggas, who buy fifths by the fo'
And brew's by the
SLAP YOU in the face the bass, Dr. Dre laced
Kings wit Sedans and gold rings
Haters fold the style, but find no openings

We roll deep, smoke on weed and pack heat
Requirements for each day in L.A.!
It don't stop, we still mash in hot from the cops
why we act this way in L.A.!

In L.A

That's how we