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"

Let's take a ride with the boy the Eastside
Where a crime no roots to a bye-bye
of motherfuckers spitting nothing but drama rhymes
Flapping his lips, and ain't squeezed a nine
Try to with me fool, you ain't competitive
Stop claiming my town, I give your ass a sedative
Haymaker and uppercuts, hey nigga you as fuck
I'm hitting Tyson, so fool what's up?
You and your boys, you pop a lot of weak shit
"Pooh-Man is flapping" but he's fucking your bitch
Getting ganked by manager, did for your cash
That's what you get with uneducated ass
the pistol-toting, dank-smoking, bitch-choking
Young player from
I was by O.G.'s fool, what you stressing?
AK's, Mac 12's fool, Smith &
You got the audacity to claim where you be
R.I.P. to
You wanna be with my town but my town ain't down with ya clown
So gangster put your motherfucking mic down
I'm coming for your ass, nigga, you're outta
Squeeze the trigger, eight ball in the corner

A lotta circulating round town
Seems my in this business try to put me down
He said this, she said
But you know where they that fool: behind my back
Never had the guts to up
And my fans know I can take a rhyme and change the flow
of a realist, cause I stay as real as this
And all those other can do is make a wish
Huh, so I to kiss they ass
I got better, motherfucker (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 stacking
'93 and I out to do nothing but keep taxing
Punk-ass bitch, you slimy-ass
When you learn you only get what the fuck you earn?
I'm the town of the motherfucking Mack
Even my draws a big black gat, huh
So all the talking you gets you nowhere, player
The "Peace to My Nine" bullshit I just couldn't
Here's my glock, listen to me it
The trigger is pulled, it's ball in the corner pocket

I'm getting tired of my name 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, lies be vicious
And these motherfuckers be all in my face
'93 I got the pop, and they all 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 straight go crazy and take his fucking 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 nerves to a player
If I was you I'd my motherfucking mouth
my partner Little E blow your motherfucking head off
You want some nigga, well you got it
It's like ball to the corner pocket