Luyện nghe bài hát They Don't Want None

[Featuring: Shyne &

Far as dough, I'm with cash, popping like fuckle tags
Rappin' in Belize, Vuitton duffle bags
Guess who home, my Shyne
Straight out the brick to a brick house
Money like it's Chris Dale
Shine on it swiss styles, I'm hood as Kid
My Bomber jacket perfect for the pit stop, it is now
You boys don't want none, release on the Glock
here by, they go numb
Goin' no. 1 with the gang no. 2
Start track no. 3 to ypee MV
(Gots the chill) While I a mill to the ceiling
Ten gangstas outside, gangstas in the building
One nigga can't stop this killin'
Hell on earth of repercussion, the blood is spelt on my
Cowboys and Indians, the pilgrims
Infiltrate my near every cat buildin'

(They don't none)
Don't make a pull Glocks in the shots
Spin that black ghost the block
(They don't none)
We got pills for
Give a bitch and thrills for days
Know I
(Let 'em some)
Ace of by the fountains
by the ounces, mill on the mountains
(In a I'm)
We bringin' the
Yo B, let 'em
Money uh

Fish out the cooker, busy for the pussy
In the kitchen with the cook of blood yea, then you us
You fuckin' hookers, y'all a of Ashton Kutcher's
With the finger tag backs, you ain't that
Yo Game, I'm laughin' at these cop who shote us
Imagine that, you're mad a fuckin' life at
You's the one there, I swear
Stuck the blood cryin'
I'm in Belize with when these shots fired in this silence
Y'all motherfuckaz
I've see the paperwork, you a pigeon, no kisses
Count to the ceilin'
George shit, Vic, Vag, Vellin
Hopin' every cell creepin'
County with me, I'm the best livin'

(They want none)
Don't make a nigga Glocks in the shots
Spin that black ghost around the
(They need none)
We got for days
Give a chills and thrills for days
I mean?
(Let 'em some)
Ace of Spades by the
by the ounces, mill on the mountains
(In a I'm)
We bringin' the
Yo B, let 'em
Gang uh

Check it, what the blood
Nigga blood got and Lambo's parked outside the drug spot
Survived five shots, you that
bitch niggas died, they cried
Cause had to pay for that
Payers it, where the blow at?
I just won a hundred racks on blackjack and you know I'm 'bout to blow
They don't make real where you from
Sick 45, I'm 'bout to fuck the trigga till them hollows come
Talk Swallow one
You fuckin' me
I disrespect niggas in old Italian movies
I'm sayin', I live, you
I come in the with my shirt off and spit in your fuckin' spaghetti sauce
Boss, my pocket's fatter than my nigga
Wipe this milkatrone off my mouth my Louis glove

I'm a California
Bust cerebellum, skateboard go and tell 'em

(They don't none)
Don't make a pull Glocks in the shots
Spin black ghost around the block
(They don't none)
We got pills for
a bitch chills and thrills for days
Know I
(Let 'em some)
Ace of by the fountains
Cush by the ounces, on the mountains
(In a I'm)
We bringin' the
Yo B, let 'em
Money