Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever since I up this morning, I've been on
Twist the cap up off my jar, and smoked a cone
Took a shower and got gone in the wind, like Wynn
I'm the streets of California where we be hustlin and grittin'
Gettin' women, mobbin' and mackin', droppin' and stackin'
Wheelin' and dealin' and makin' a killin' trying to hit a
Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in front of the building
and totin' and toast the lean oh what a feelin'
He's a fraudulent, I'm
He a simp, he a sap, he
I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a hundred
I'm a hustler like 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 ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm
Mental health, with my conscience cursin' out myself
My got a psychologist, neurologist too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

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

Act you know
Dippin' and bobbin' and
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
Trying to get my right, my nigga
it to the ceiling

Drinking and blowing on some bud
on a strain you never heard of
Exclusive shit, I got it my plugs
You my weed on my rug
twenty pushups, that's a party foul
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 turn my brains adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best E-40 with his .45 Glock
I'm ADHD, need something to calm my
You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' like
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
aroma, that's me in the elevator
More whips Auto Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, looks a car lot
My bite is stronger my bark
you thought, heart
Bitch you full of shit a dog park
Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real business?
While these sideline niggas be always trying to a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their lizznips like bitches, man they saps
be running their mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks
That's how a bitch gets
Shot in the naps,
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even 'em back (bitch)

Act like you
and bobbin and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
to get my paper right, my nigga
Stack it to the

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

...to the