Luyện nghe bài hát Suffix

kickin on the block tellin all the og's i be comin for ya spot when ya not lookin
hot cookin mama got it on the kitchen table, i thank god we always able to, get the leather couch, big screen, cable too
nintendo when the good came through
then the cooked haze through
some some stepped on, but we kept on
and i slept with the work plenty nights, thought i heard niggas comin thought i saw the cop lights but, i was dreamin, then i woke the junkies was fiendin, and i had coke so, i had hope ya may say that its wrong, but i aint talkin to ya child im talkin to song
im just, a bump down memory lane, if i crash just pick up my brain, and yes, my niggas the same
but they quicker to bang, and if do then im the nigga to blame,
so i shoot first anyway, and i would do the honors anyday, and tell ya honor he a bitch to his face, and whip the state like i whip through the yay
show ya ass on how to 4 and make 8. and it dont take four niggas to get straight, the only hot boy leavin off this plane,
young, weezy baby, thats ya bitch say, give ya ass a location and a template, show her how to work tha interstate, stop workin with that thinner weight, gecha rims fixed
stop playin, cause all we is gunplay
while ya fall and my clip guna be empty
when the stomachs get empty anything's tempting, aint nobody safe its for the kids sake,
the hurricane wiped us out like a earthquake, we trying to say grace, but we aint gotta place to stay, so they us evacuate
we on our way pussies,
yall know us when you see us putcha jewels up, putcha cars clothes putcha shoes up,
its that simple yes homie pick the up, it wasnt good nigga think about the hood nigga

(interlude)
the people who aint, never had shit gon never have shit

bullshit, cause they still gon try to manage, niggas do anything i dont understand em, but please understand us

niggas money lost mansions
niggas with lost families

lives lost from traffic, water up to the attic, there the stashes

(verse 2)
but a nigga got passion, though the bounce back seemin like magic
chyeaaa, but me sigfried,
watch how i turn one key to a hundred G's,then summer,summer breeze, someone please know i live for ya, throw on the wife beater like that to live for ya, a few years probably hear from ya, but now im here for ya, i know niggas shed a tear for ya, behind bars tryin to get to ya, and probably never see ya, this that real talk if ya ever heard it homie
shit hurt so much i might have to hurt ya homie, no commercial no frontin no curve on it, no car tel like so what? the droughts here not only white's slowed up, the weed's slowed up, we cant even roll up, fuck, put a dent in the money too, but thats the thing cause hustle is what we do
with what? how we gettin on?
where hes sittin at, hes sittin on
stand up if you know its true, the end of the world comin and my city the proof, yea, chyea, and this if after disaster, this aint rap this is

off the G-4 still strapped
bust ya head in the air thats a skycap, have my car pick me up where i arrive at, the work off cause it dont go where i reside at
garbage bags filled up with dollars,dead presidents dump the bodies
birdman as as we gon eat, then everybody gon eat off me

feet off ground, to the stars, reachin, and ima get there through these bars, believe me,
im down for the cause, even, when pause i can see it, ima leader, me, the son of the cita
fuck the world not the