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 fitted, "Blood in, Blood out" shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, in the couch shit
The mad rapper, Oscar the Grouch
Except when I'm out of cans, I'm pulling out shit
the 4 though, double X 3-D Polo
If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the motherfuckin
Your last shit was so-so, you should sign to
I've been 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 then I hang out at the Staples like Blake
You can tell I'm 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 they music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time them pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, even ask
Cause I got another ounce up in the
Them boys want music on blast
Don't turn me down, me up every 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 chill in the car
Feelin' Missy, why you all up in my grill
They must know that I got 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 throwback rats they be on showin' college hill
For real, I my first 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 calling and
Can't get to the phone right now cause is all in this bitch mouth
When did we taking these tricks out?
Now she gon' run her big mouth and tell her
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 start that cycle again
How you claimin' that when she with him?
again cause

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on chin, but can you tell me where my dick's 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, me mass 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 that were missin'
You can embrace it or come face to face total devastation
My is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
Switch it up, heat it up, it up, that means I'm gone
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and club
Boy, gone, the A-T-L-iens are home
But I feel like a librarian, cause style's are loaned out like books
A full of crooks, rape and pillage
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 Chicago, but I'm a bear
I'm a bay nigga, 49er, Raider
I'm about my bread man, I no sucker
Now these bitch ass niggas as table butter
I'm my riches, magazines, street hustler
You can ask uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older brothers
But I used to flee through yellow white
Sellin' that shit the retail price
I'm a rare breed like the bike club, get it
Desperado like Tori Amos, shout out to
I got my red cup, and some
What kind of green you pimp? Blue dream
My nigga let my hit that there hemp, do thing
How many woofers in trunk? 4 15s