Luyện nghe bài hát Street Rules

Yeah, yo this go out to everybody, just doin' what gotta do
KnowhatI'msayin'? To get cream, knahmean?

The streets don't who you are
And those who Jack's son, they never get far
The don't care who you are
And those who Jack's son, they never get far

Yo, where I reside fake niggaz run and
The streets be wicked, keep biscuit by yo' side
the fuck? Who the next crew to get run amuck?
It's all real over here, on the you get stuck

For jacks don't max 'cause the block stay hot
Watch your back for the niggaz tryin' to get what you got
Count dough slow, never flash your ends
Always keep a stash and never make new friends

Commit your sins, confess on own time kid
Never that you too nice to do a fuckin' bid
Don't nobody but you see, you gettin' bigger
So for every loyal it's two spoiled niggaz

Midnight to six cliques sweet vicks
cream dreams, takin' niggaz out the mix
Nine-pound locked down by you and yo'
But yo' back nigga because the streets don't have to

The streets don't who you are
And those who fake Jack's son, never get far
The don't care who you are
And those who fake son, they never get far

Yo, fuck gettin' high, I need dough
And you high all you seein' is yo' money movin' slow
So scratch the itch, don't and don't snitch
Leavin', C'mon, this ain't bitch

Ask black, the kid the wide-body Ac
Put a freeze on your and you're workin' till he stack
'Nuff bills to chill, lines and shit
Till niggaz hit crib on some tec-9 shit

I numb gums coke when you take a taste
You in the wrong motherfuckin' place tryin' to be
be schemin' and slippin' on Henny demon
Tryin' to outlast the ass, cash got him fiendin'

To rock on the wrong blocks and know the tactics
In God we trust, mad deep like Sounds of
Locked in the rule of no sharin', it seem
I'm but I'm for delf I can't spend whipped cream

The streets care who you are
And those who fake Jack's son, never get far
The streets care who you are
And those who Jack's son, they never get far

Break it down, the man is so hot niggaz is suntans
Makin' plans to jam after they bag up next gram
Brothers gettin' laced, I a new case
But if they want me, they got to kill me twice like

Excess players I got no for rest man
that dough flowin', motherfuck owin' the next man
Neighborhood villain, hoodie glock no
When I see you it's be, executioner style

nigga? Check the stee', yeah you know how it get
Out here ol' [Unverified] Columbian blindfold shit
go to club chill drink holder
Discrete down to low gettin' street soldiers

Duckin' till heads recognize the real
Lettin' lead fly but I maintain and chill
You know the deal, kids get ill sleep
You get card pulled quick fuckin' around in these streets

The don't care who you are
And those who fake son, they never get far
The streets don't who you are
And those who fake son, they never get far

Yeah, you how we do big shout to everybody
I mad at ya, do your thing, y'knahmean?
Northside, Southside, Eastern,
gotta win