Luyện nghe bài hát They Don't Want None

[Featuring: Shyne &

Far as dough, I'm stuffed with cash, popping like fuckle
in Belize, Louis Vuitton duffle bags
Guess who home, my Shyne
Straight out the brick house to a house
Money flowin' like it's Chris
Shine on it swiss styles, I'm as Kid Styles
My Bomber jacket perfect for the pit stop, it is now
You boys don't none, release on the blood Glock
They here by, go numb
Goin' plan no. 1 the gang no. 2
Start no. 3 back to ypee MV
(Gots the chill) I stack 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 squad near every cat

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

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

(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 for days
Give a bitch chills and 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
Money uh

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

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

(They want none)
Don't make a nigga 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 Spades by the
Cush by the ounces, on the mountains
(In a I'm)
We the fuck
Yo B, let 'em
Money