Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

It's not usual, the be, all up on some South shit
Straight Coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, out" shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, in the couch shit
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 was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin logo
Your last shit was so-so, you should sign to
I've been hard since I was
Niggas feel my pain, I make it without the strippers
Go the grain, and put your shit back like some clippers
I bang and I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can I'm getting money the way that glass house is sitting
I mash out the then like Nas when 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 every time them pass
Mashed on the gas, am I high, don't even ask
I got another ounce up in the stash
Them boys want they music on
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, don't ask
I take 2 hits, and then I pass

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a chill 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 pray on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats they be on college hill
For real, I think my first album 5 mil'
And you say to "He's broke"
Well how the am I ballin', like Spalding
I did a couple of movies, now agents and calling
Can't get to the phone now cause balls is all in this bitch mouth
When did we taking these tricks 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 bitch is in the
And after the next draft, she gon' that cycle again
How you claimin' that bitch when she him?
Come again

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you me where my dick's at?
Come order ghetto, hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the lightning that 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 basses were missin' pimpin'
You can it or come 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 Buzz, Toy Story and club songs
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are home
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' out like books
A full of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do for money, I bet misleading the village


Not from New England, but I a patriot
Not Atlanta, but I got the cater
Not Chicago, but I'm a bear
I'm a bay nigga, 49er, Raider
I'm my bread man, I ain't no sucker
Now these bitch ass niggas soft as butter
I'm about my riches, magazines, street
You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older
But I used to flee through that white
Sellin' that shit the retail price
I'm a rare like the bike club, get it right
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 there hemp, do your thing
How many woofers in trunk? 4 15s