Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

It's not usual, the game be, all up on South shit
Straight Coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, out" shit
Empty jars, nigga, bird in the couch shit
The mad rapper, the Grouch shit
Except when I'm hopping out of cans, I'm pulling out
Dippin' the 4 though, double X 3-D
If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the logo
last shit was so-so, you should sign to Jermaine
I've been hard since I was
Niggas my pain, I make it rain without the strippers
Go against the grain, and put your shit back like clippers
I bang and then I out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can tell I'm money the way that glass house is sitting
I mash out the strip then like Nas I'm dippin
Feeling like God's Son, the way It Was Written

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

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker in the car
Feelin' like Missy, why you all up in my
They 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 that pray on Dwight and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats they be on showin' college
For real, I think my first sold 5 mil'
And you say to "He's broke"
Well how the hell am I ballin', Spalding
I did a couple of movies, now agents and calling
Can't get to the phone right now cause balls is all in this bitch
When did we start taking these out?
Now she gon' run her big mouth and her girlfriend
You had her all up in the
Blowing yo cheese on Louie Vuitton, and now that is in the wind
And after the next draft, she gon' start cycle again
How you that bitch when she with him?
Come cause

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on chin, but can you tell me where my dick's at?
Come ghetto, head hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me mass of, cause I run the plantation and I'm whooping niggas
If they the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses that were missin' pimpin'
You can it or come face to face with total devastation
My mojo is fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, that means I'm
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy and club songs
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are phoning
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' loaned out books
A full of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do anything for money, I bet misleading the


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