Luyện nghe bài hát Throwed Off

[Gudda
Yeah,
Ok, I walk up in the club Louie-Louies with the bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm a Halle Berry body
You know what I do, I, g-get straight to the
Wrist frigid and my watch is a Franck Muller
I'm young moolah, Gudda [x2], I
Remember when I used to stuff my paper in my box
Now I got two accounts with money stacks and large amounts
What the you niggas talkin' bout, cause we ain't tryin' talk it out
Pistol out my jeans, it ain't a thing, let's talk it out
Let that chopper start to sing and let it and then I'm out
Yeah, you what I'm sippin', purple got me trippin'
Scoop your chicken up and let her lick me like a
I'm on South Beach and I'm tryin' to fuck every hottie
Get her to the crib and make her fuck
You know the team, Young Money over everybody
In the rap game, so it's everybody

Wayne:]
Married to the mob, you alive
My girl pussy feel like to a God
And I came in this bitch with my
the baby and the fuckin' babysitter, yeah
I be me, don't give a fuck bout what you doin'
Blood bitch, big B's, Boston Bruins
I could do this shit, closed, nothin' to it
Bullets fuck your body up, they ain't tryna view it
I go tough, I go
Murk your pussy ass and you in cahoots with
Fuck you a pool stick
Make you two dicks
right, we ruthless
We done too many movies
Then smoked too doobies
you out, then deuces
We know what truce is
That bullet proof vest so
Flag red bruises
Shoot ya head with them
I swear, honor, I ain't a dealer, I'm a user, ya dig
I load up the sig, it at ya wig
Pull over on the highway, throw you off the
We don't give a fuck, and we ain't did
Shit, three words you never hear, let him
I'm in my own zone, it got me off
I break these down, I break these hoes off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got Gudda on the
Public apology, for the wait