Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever I woke up this morning, I've been on
Twist the cap up off my weed jar, and a cone
Took a and got gone in the wind, like Steve Wynn
I'm the streets of California where 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 drinkin' and chillin' in 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 percent
I'm a like Larry Flynt
Getting my habit, I stay in the traffic
Papered up a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I walked in a loser, mayne I'm gonna 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 you know
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 like you
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

Drinking and on some good bud
Smokin' on a 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 don't (who?)
Aliens around me, a no-no
They'll try to sneak me and turn my brains into
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 with his .45
I'm ADHD, need something to calm my
You libel to find me at my kid's meeting smellin' like herb
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
Liquor aroma, me in the elevator
More than Auto Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, like a car lot
My bite is stronger than my
you thought, heart
Bitch you full of like a dog park
Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real one's
While these sideline niggas be trying to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their like some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks
That's how a gets smack-smacked
Shot in the naps,
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat even bring 'em back (bitch)

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

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

...to the