Luyện nghe bài hát The Best Out

Okay,okay,okay, yes sir
Hell Rell, J.R. Writer,
This is how we do it,
I am one of a kind,
It's now or never,
up, muthafucka
Let's do

Aiyo, I stop for coke, get bricks on the muscle
Gorillas on they bullshit, to the jungle
get served in the hallway, welcome to the hustle
Where bitches do for a hit of that glass dick
When I'm outta town, nothing less a half brick
One-Sixty on the dash, nothing less than a fast
I floss when it's sunny, got money for a day
In the dope spot a few blocks from where the play

Man, I'm heavy in that BX borough, we ain't front for nobody
We thorough and I'm sittin' on an arsenal, rockets and the missiles
Took my advance and got my poppin' with them nickels
And when I'm in ya neighborhood, you go hide
Deliver to ya door like them domino pies nigga
Say hello to my little friend like
I pull that fuckin' rifle out the guitar case

Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he out
Jones the kuffe smacker, he bringing techs out
Sporty-style, 40 cal, he bringing out
Bezel, the beast but I still show you fresh 'bout
You know who the grams, 40k on the hand
nigga, what more can I say about Cam
J.R. the writer of and Santana
Back like cooked crack, he supplying suppliers

The type that I'm tighter, 'cause I'm writer
Write 'cause I'm nicer, for the lifers
Knifes in the cipher, writers a viper, this is butter
Even ringling brothers see I got the eye of the
Before I met killa cam, I was killa grams
I killer grams, throws a tan, fill a pan
Recorded in the hole, where you chill or stand
No booth, microphone hangin off the fan

Mass million fan in the Belly Hilton
Watch how I heavy him, Bessey, Chevy, Desi fill 'em
But I still ain't a sweat, yes I'm chillin'
wong, seat wrong, Tito gonna bet the building
I grind to lean, sniff lines for fiends
Grams chopped, tan rock, I pitch lima
Piff was mean, had 'em dumb stuck
So when I say uncut, I don't mean the scenes

Dipset, the best out, Hell Rell, he out
Jones the kuffe smacker, he bringing them out
Sporty-style, 40 cal, he Corvettes out
Bezel, the beast but I still show you fresh 'bout
You know who the grams, 40k on the hand
Killa nigga, what more can I say Cam
J.R. the of writers and Santana
Back cooked crack, he even supplying suppliers

Yo, I'm a NY G Jeremy Shockey
through drop my coupe like I meant to be sloppy
I got kickin' karate
'Cause they throw my wax on and your wax off like Mr. Myagi
Pimpin', I'm cocky, I slap your broad on the
And send her barefooted, you massaging her feet
You probably go down on a freak, hardly a meat
But we ain't mad 'cause you're proving, you are you eat

Your squadron is weak, and get a broken something
a plate in ya grill like a toaster oven
Fuck it, they even got frontin'
Shakin' cola, only time your coke was bubbling cousin
Cal get with no problemo
Ride around ya block, it out the car window
And ya been know, that I chop rocks
That make your father cop like Carl

Dipset, the best out, Rell, he fresh out
Jones the kuffe smacker, he bringing them out
Sporty-style, 40 cal, he bringing out
Bezel, the beast but I still you what fresh 'bout
You know who shavin' the grams, 40k on the
Killa nigga, what more can I say Cam
J.R. the writer of writers and
Back cooked crack, he even supplying suppliers