Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

It's not usual, the be, all up on some South shit
Straight West Coasting, you can by my outfit
Red fitted, "Blood in, Blood out" shit
Empty jelly jars, nigga, bird in the couch
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 motherfuckin
Your shit was so-so, you should sign to Jermaine
I've been hard since I was
Niggas feel my pain, I make it without the strippers
Go against the grain, and put your shit back some clippers
I bang and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake
You can tell I'm getting money the way glass house is sitting
I out the strip then like Nas when I'm dippin
Feeling like God's Son, the way It Was Written

Them boys want they on blast
Don't turn me down, me up every time them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I high, don't even ask
I got another ounce up in the stash
Them boys want music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every 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 must know that I got stashed all up in my grill
Camouflage by the Armor All it's sparkling off my wheels
And I hoes that pray on Dwight Howard and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats 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 balls is all in bitch mouth
did we start taking these tricks out?
Now she run her big mouth 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 cycle again
How you claimin' that bitch when she with
Come again

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on chin, but can you tell 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 strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me mass of, cause I run the and I'm whooping niggas asses
If they disrespect the presentation, the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses that were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or come to face with total devastation
My mojo is fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
Switch it up, heat it up, speed it up, means I'm gone
gears, ahead of your 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 of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do anything for money, I bet the village


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