Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

It's not usual, the game be, all up on South shit
Straight West Coasting, you can tell by my
Red fitted, "Blood in, Blood out" shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, bird in the couch
The mad rapper, Oscar the shit
when I'm hopping 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 shit was so-so, you should to Jermaine
been hard since I was solo
Niggas feel my pain, I make it rain the strippers
Go against the grain, and put your back like some clippers
I and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can tell I'm getting money the way that glass is sitting
I mash out the then like Nas when I'm dippin
Feeling like God's Son, the way that It Was

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

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

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you me where my dick's at?
Come order ghetto, head hunter, buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the lightning that strikes
Motherfucker, me mass of, cause I run the plantation and I'm whooping niggas asses
If disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses that were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or come face to face 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
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and songs
Boy, gone, the are phoning home
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' out like books
A castle full of crooks, rape and
do anything for money, I bet misleading the village


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