Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

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

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

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a 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
Camouflage by the Armor All it's sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes pray on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats be on showin' college hill
For real, I my first album sold 5 mil'
And you say to "He's broke"
Well how the hell am I ballin', like
I did a couple of movies, now calling and calling
Can't get to the phone now cause balls is all in this bitch mouth
When did we start taking these tricks
Now she gon' run her big 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 next draft, she gon' start cycle again
How you claimin' bitch when she with him?
again cause

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on your chin, but can you tell me where my at?
Come order ghetto, hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling the thunder, I'm the lightning that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me of, cause I run the plantation and I'm whooping niggas asses
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses 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, 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' loaned out books
A castle full of crooks, rape and
They'll do anything for money, I bet 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 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 used to through that yellow white
Sellin' that shit below the retail
I'm a breed like the bike club, get it right
like Tori Amos, shout out to dynamite
I got my red cup, and green
What kind of green you smoking Blue dream
My nigga let my hit that there hemp, do thing
How many in your trunk? 4 15s