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 'nati fitted, "Blood in, Blood out"
Empty jelly jars, nigga, bird in the shit
The mad rapper, the Grouch 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 logo
Your last shit was so-so, you should sign to
I've been hard 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 out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can tell I'm getting money the way that house is sitting
I mash out the strip then like Nas I'm dippin
Feeling God's Son, the way that It Was Written

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

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker in the car
Feelin' Missy, why you all up in my grill
They know that I got bird stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the Armor All while sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes that pray on Dwight Howard and
Not them throwback they be on showin' 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 of movies, now agents calling and calling
Can't get to the right now cause balls is all in this bitch mouth
When did we start these tricks 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 that cycle
How you that bitch when she with him?
Come cause

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you me where my dick's at?
order ghetto, head hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my bring the thunder, I'm the lightning that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me mass of, I run the plantation and I'm whooping niggas asses
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses that were missin'
You can embrace it or face to face with total devastation
My mojo is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime
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 are phoning home
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are being' loaned out like
A castle full of crooks, and pillage
do anything for money, I bet misleading the village


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