Luyện nghe bài hát They Can't Stop Us!

What's up
I y'all it's about to be on, nigga
We drop shit we want to huh
Fell this nigga, real

the the game niggas that got that 'cane
Murder Mr. Dopeman still in the rap
It's 1997, my niggas gone to
Rest in peace 2Pac Master P, doin' 2-11s

187 Khadafi, murder puttin'
In six foot motherfuckin'
If you fuck with Tru clique
Nigga you gettin' wig spilt

Who run this gangster
(No Limit this)
It's 'bout to be it, 187
Jumpin' on ghetto dope with these topics
makin' scrilla your neighborhood drug dealer

Ice cream slaingin' tattooed up nigga
In the rap game pushin'
Flippin' the water, from Texas to
game to the knuckleheads

And spittin' voodoo on the chicken heads
Down south hustlin', to the coast
Got nigga game, I mean this rap shit in to dope
them in packages, independent spittin' shit

Standing on stages with bullet-proof vests, lookin' for other
But who gon' be the next nigga to die in this rap
Or drop a hit on the wrong
'Cause they shit about other niggas
Now it's a war zone, in this rap

But they can't us Tru niggas
They can't us Tru niggas
can't stop us Tru niggas
They stop us Tru niggas
'Cause if y'all kill one, be a million other niggas in line

ghetto dope, bustin' ghetto rhymes y'all
Running from the one not mines
Posted up, hostin' up soldiers
Down huster, throwin' boulders

Ready to like a football player
Got 17 rounds for y'all haters
So jump on this ghetto shit and get this wicked shit
And jump up on this rap game and watch a nigga

Killer, murder topics put my if y'all think y'all can stop it
Hardcore bangin', hangin'
Nigga down for whatever why we bangin' on wax
Into traps, got Beats by the like niggas slaingin' sacks

In the 'hood, up to no good, got niggas it
From Baton Rouge to St. Louis to
Got niggas lined up in Atlanta addicts
have this gangster shit, this real shit

From motherfuckin' Tru clique, ain't givin' up, living raw
And if we die, it, sell my 'dro to the next gangster nigga
Rest in peace Easy-E., but I'm out here scrilla
So fuck y'all laws and y'all motherfuckin' police cars
through with gangsters
And killers live the motherfuckin' drug dealer

'97 to 2000 A.D. little kids wanna be me 'cause I'm it, I'm rowdy
The government and the press, motherfuckers want me out
For runnin' my own shit, niggas sellin' company
the slaves sold their souls to 30 cents break bread

Don't you know 15 of what you made?
You a sucker, a clucker, so stop hardcore
You hip-hop and stay true to the gizzame
Be your paper, nigga fuck the fizzame third ward nigga
Runnin' the hill it no limit to this gangster shit
smokes and keepin' it real

Y'all can't us Tru niggas
Y'all can't us Tru niggas
Y'all can't us Tru niggas
'Cause if y'all kill one, they'll be a more Tru niggas

Bitch it be Slikk choppin' and kickin' shit like
Fast like a Mazzeroti, crime boss John Gotti
Look their face, niggas afraid of me
Look deeper into their eyes, they
Yeah y'all scared of me

I flow like water run shit like Ki-Jana Carter
Tell 'em, I'ma be there watch [Incomprehensible] the French Quarter
Down for whatever bow down never
Buck a Beretta wet you up like bad weather

Got fangs like a cobra now I got like a Rover
You don't fuck with us you fucked up like a hangover
the city where busters lie from the city where suckers die
Make way for P and Silkk, two of the baddest alive

Bitch it's time, bitch I want the whole nine
Bust one line, and niggas change their whole rhyme
I'm the Shocker, yeah, I got
Tru motherfuckers, and y'all can't stop us and it's on