Luyện nghe bài hát Studio Gangster

"I've you on the street" "Where you from?" "From Oakland"
"Nah, you're not Oakland, I know Oakland"

take a ride with the boy from the Eastside
Where nothing's a crime no to a bye-bye
Tired of motherfuckers spitting nothing but drama
Flapping his lips, and ain't never squeezed a
Try to compete me fool, you ain't competitive
Stop my town, before I give your ass a sedative
Haymaker and uppercuts, hey nigga you weak as
I'm hitting like Tyson, so fool up?
You and your boys, you pop a lot of weak shit
Yelling "Pooh-Man is flapping" but he's fucking your
ganked by your manager, did for your cash
That's you get with your uneducated ass
Pooh's the pistol-toting, dank-smoking,
Young player from
I was by O.G.'s fool, what you stressing?
AK's, Mac fool, Smith & Wessons
You got the audacity to false claim you be
R.I.P. to
You wanna be down my town but my town ain't down with ya clown
So studio gangster put motherfucking mic down
I'm coming for your ass, nigga, you're outta
Squeeze the trigger, eight in the corner pocket

A lotta stories circulating town
Seems my in this business try to put me down
He said this, she that
But you know where they talking that fool: behind my
Never had the guts to up
And my fans know that I can take a rhyme and the flow
of a realist, cause I stay as real as this
And all those brothers can do is make a wish
Huh, so I refuse to they ass
I got something better, (gunshots)
More and I find myself in the media
Or on the screen for New Line Cinema
Yeah, your lips are flapping but my bank is still
'93 and I ain't out to do nothing but keep
Punk-ass bitch, you slimy-ass
When will you learn you only get the fuck you earn?
I'm from the of the motherfucking Mack
Even my bitch draws a big gat, huh
So all the talking you doing you nowhere, player
The "Peace to My Nine" I just couldn't bear
Here's my glock, to me cock it
The trigger is pulled, eight ball in the corner pocket

I'm tired of my name used in a bad way
Even though I ain't around, these got something to say
Claim I'm a thug, I sell drug
Man I'm telling you, these be vicious
And same motherfuckers be all in my face
'93 I got the pop, and all want a taste
You see I'm out to get richer, in otherwords more
Pooh be coming in first with niggas coming in last
So I take my and my sensor alarm
And I go crazy and take his fucking head off
For being all in my mix
You punk ass hoe-trusting bitch
Yeah your partner pump you up, you throw chest in the air
And then you got the to badmouth a player
If I was you I'd my motherfucking mouth
Before my partner Little E blow motherfucking head off
You want some nigga, well you got it
It's like eight to the corner pocket