Luyện nghe bài hát Studio Gangster

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

Let's take a ride with the boy the Eastside
nothing's a crime no roots to a bye-bye
Tired of spitting nothing but drama rhymes
his lips, and ain't never squeezed a nine
Try to compete me fool, you ain't competitive
Stop claiming my town, before I give ass a sedative
Haymaker and uppercuts, hey you weak as fuck
I'm like Tyson, so fool what's up?
You and boys, you pop a whole lot of weak shit
Yelling "Pooh-Man is flapping" but he's your bitch
Getting by your manager, did for your cash
That's what you get 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 12's fool, Smith &
You got the to false claim where you be
R.I.P. to
You wanna be down with my town but my town ain't down ya clown
So studio gangster put your motherfucking mic
I'm for your ass, nigga, you're outta pocket
Squeeze the trigger, eight in the corner pocket

A lotta stories circulating round
Seems my in this business try to put me down
He said this, she said
But you know they talking that fool: behind my back
had the guts to step up
And my fans know I can take a rhyme and change the flow
Somewhat of a realist, I stay as real as this
And all those other brothers can do is make a
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 but my bank is still stacking
'93 and I ain't out to do but keep taxing
bitch, you slimy-ass worm
When will you learn you get what the fuck you earn?
I'm from the town of the Mack
Even my bitch a big black gat, huh
So all the talking you doing you nowhere, player
The "Peace to My Nine" bullshit I just bear
Here's my glock, to me cock it
The is pulled, it's eight ball in the corner pocket

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