Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

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

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

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker in the car
like Missy, why you all up in my grill
They must know that I got stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the All while it's sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes that on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not throwback rats they be on showin' college hill
For real, I think my album sold 5 mil'
And you say to "He's broke"
how the hell am I ballin', like 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 mouth
When did we start taking tricks out?
Now she run her big mouth and tell her girlfriend
You had her all up in the
Blowing yo on Louie Vuitton, and now that bitch is in the wind
And after the draft, she gon' start that cycle again
How you claimin' that bitch when she him?
Come cause

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on chin, but can you tell me where my dick's at?
Come order ghetto, head hunter, 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 niggas
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or come face to with total devastation
My mojo is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime
Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, that I'm gone
gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and club songs
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are home
But I feel a librarian, cause style's are being' loaned out like books
A full of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do anything for money, I bet the village


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 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 brothers
But I used to through that yellow white
Sellin' that shit below the retail
I'm a rare breed like the club, get it right
Desperado like Tori Amos, shout out to
I got my red cup, and some
What kind of you smoking pimp? Blue dream
My nigga let my hit there hemp, do your thing
How many in your trunk? 4 15s