Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever since I woke up this morning, I've on
the cap up off my weed jar, and smoked a cone
Took a and got gone in the wind, like Steve Wynn
I'm from the streets of where we be hustlin and grittin'
that women, mobbin' and mackin', droppin' and stackin'
Wheelin' and and makin' a killin' trying to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and in front of the apartment building
Packin' and totin' and toast the oh what a feelin'
a fraudulent, I'm immaculate
He a simp, he a sap, he
I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a hundred
I'm a hustler Larry Flynt
Getting money's my habit, I stay in the
Papered up like a tablet, my is massive
If I in a loser, mayne I'm gonna walk out a winner
I ball like a hooper man, up like a printer
I wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm throwed
Mental health, argue with my cursin' out myself
My got a psychologist, neurologist too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

Act like you
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
Trying to get my paper right, my
Stack it to the

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the to the evening
Trying to get my right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Drinking and blowing on good bud
Smokin' on a strain you never of
shit, I got it from my plugs
You my weed on my rug
That's twenty pushups, that's a party
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I allow (who?)
Aliens me, that's a no-no
They'll try to sneak me and my brains into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 his .45 Glock
I'm ADHD, need something to calm my
You libel to find me at my teacher's meeting smellin' like herb
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
Liquor aroma, that's me in the
More whips Auto Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, looks a car lot
My bite is stronger than my
you thought, heart
Bitch you full of shit a dog park
Mark ass poodle, square as a
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a one's business?
While these sideline niggas be always to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their lizznips some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running their mouth like that, we 'em quack-quacks
That's how a bitch smack-smacked
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even 'em back (bitch)

Act you know
and bobbin and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
it to the ceiling

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
Stack it to the

...to the