Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

It's not usual, the be, all up on some South shit
Straight West Coasting, you can tell by my
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, out" shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, in the couch shit
The mad rapper, the Grouch shit
Except when I'm out of cans, I'm pulling out shit
Dippin' the 4 though, double X 3-D
If was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin logo
Your last was so-so, you should sign to Jermaine
I've been since I was solo
Niggas feel my pain, I make it rain the strippers
Go against the grain, and put your shit like some clippers
I bang and then I hang out at the like Blake Griffin
You can I'm getting money the way that glass house is sitting
I mash out the strip like Nas when I'm dippin
Feeling like God's Son, the way It Was Written

Them want they music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time them cops
Mashed on the gas, am I high, don't even ask
Cause I got another up in the stash
Them boys want music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, even ask
Cause I take 2 hits, and I pass

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker in the car
Feelin' like Missy, why you all up in my
must know that I got bird stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the Armor All while it's off my wheels
And I fuck hoes pray on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback they be on showin' college hill
For real, I my first album sold 5 mil'
And you say to "He's broke"
Well how the hell am I ballin', like
I did a couple of movies, now calling and calling
Can't get to the phone right now cause is all in this bitch mouth
When did we start taking these out?
Now she gon' run her big and tell her girlfriend
You had her all up in the
yo cheese on Louie Vuitton, and now that bitch is in the wind
And after the next draft, she gon' start cycle again
How you claimin' that bitch she with him?
again cause

[Big
Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you tell me where my dick's at?
Come order ghetto, hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the lightning that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me mass of, cause I run the plantation and I'm whooping asses
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the that were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or face to face with total devastation
My is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, means I'm gone
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and songs
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are home
But I feel like a librarian, style's are being' loaned out like books
A full of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do for money, I bet misleading the village


Not New England, but I pack a patriot
Not Atlanta, but I got the cater
Not from Chicago, but I'm a
I'm a bay nigga, 49er, Raider
I'm about my man, I ain't no sucker
Now these ass niggas soft as table butter
I'm my riches, magazines, street hustler
You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older
But I used to flee through yellow white
Sellin' that below the retail price
I'm a rare breed like the club, get it right
Desperado Tori Amos, shout out to dynamite
I got my red cup, and green
kind of green you smoking pimp? Blue dream
My let my hit that there hemp, do your thing
How many woofers in your 4 15s