Luyện nghe bài hát Studio Gangster

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

Let's take a ride with the boy from the
nothing's a crime no roots to a bye-bye
Tired of motherfuckers spitting nothing but drama
Flapping his lips, and ain't never a nine
Try to compete me fool, you ain't competitive
Stop my town, before I give your 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 ganked by manager, did for your cash
That's what you get your uneducated ass
Pooh's the pistol-toting, dank-smoking,
player from Oakland
I was by O.G.'s fool, what you stressing?
AK's, Mac 12's fool, & Wessons
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 motherfucking mic down
I'm coming for ass, nigga, you're outta pocket
Squeeze the trigger, eight ball in the corner

A stories circulating round town
my peers in this business try to put me down
He said this, she that
But you know they talking that fool: behind my back
Never had the guts to up
And my fans know that I can a rhyme and change the flow
Somewhat of a realist, cause I stay as real as
And all those other brothers can do is make a
Huh, so I refuse to kiss ass
I got better, motherfucker (gunshots)
More and more I find in the media
Or maybe on the screen for New Cinema
Yeah, your lips are flapping but my is still stacking
'93 and I ain't out to do nothing but taxing
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 draws a big black gat, huh
So all the you doing 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 tired 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 sell drug
Man I'm you, these 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 in first with these niggas coming in last
So I take my nine and my alarm
And I straight go crazy and his fucking head off
For being all in my mix
You motherfucking ass hoe-trusting bitch
your partner pump you up, you throw your chest in the air
And then you got the nerves to badmouth a
If I was you I'd shut my motherfucking
Before my partner Little E blow your head off
You want funk nigga, well you got it
It's eight ball to the corner pocket