Luyện nghe bài hát They Can't Stop Us!

What's up
I told it's about to be on, nigga
We shit anytime we want to huh
Fell nigga, it's real

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

187 Khadafi, murder niggas
In six foot motherfuckin'
If you fuck with this Tru
you gettin' your wig spilt

Who run gangster rap?
(No Limit this)
'bout to be it, 187 Khadafi
Jumpin' on ghetto dope these gangster topics
Still makin' scrilla your drug dealer

Ice cream slaingin' tattooed up nigga
In the rap pushin' quarters
the water, from Texas to Florida
Choppin' game to the

And voodoo on the motherfuckin' 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 be the next nigga to die in this rap game
Or drop a hit on the man?
'Cause they talkin' shit about niggas
Now it's a war zone, in rap game

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

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

Ready to block like a football
Got these 17 rounds for haters
So jump on ghetto shit and come get this wicked shit
And jump up on rap game and watch a nigga spit

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

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

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

'97 to A.D. little kids wanna be me 'cause I'm 'bout it, I'm rowdy
The and the press, them 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 rappin' hardcore
You hip-hop motherfuckers and stay true to the
Be about your paper, nigga fuck the fizzame ward nigga
Runnin' the hill it ain't no limit to this shit
Blunt smokes and it real

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

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

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

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

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