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 weed jar, and a cone
Took a shower and got gone in the wind, like Wynn
I'm from the streets of California we be hustlin and grittin'
that women, mobbin' and mackin', droppin' and stackin'
Wheelin' and dealin' and makin' a killin' to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and and chillin' in front of the apartment building
Packin' and 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 Larry Flynt
Getting my habit, I stay in the traffic
Papered up like a tablet, my is massive
If I walked in a loser, I'm gonna walk out a winner
I like a hooper man, papered up like a printer
I ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm
health, argue with my conscience cursin' out myself
My got a psychologist, neurologist too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

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

Drinking and blowing on some bud
on a strain you never heard of
Exclusive shit, I got it from my
You my weed on my rug
That's twenty pushups, a party foul
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I allow (who?)
Aliens around me, that's a
They'll try to me and turn my brains into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 with his .45
I'm ADHD, need something to my nerves
You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's smellin' like herb
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
Liquor aroma, that's me in the
More whips than Auto Trader, what I got
Driveway, looks a car lot
My bite is than my bark
you thought, heart
Bitch you full of like a dog park
ass poodle, square as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real business?
While these sideline niggas be always trying to count a hustler's
Flappin' their lizznips some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks
That's how a bitch smack-smacked
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, can't even bring 'em back (bitch)

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

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

...to the