Luyện nghe bài hát Throwed Off

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

[Lil
Married to the mob, you alive
My girl pussy like heaven to a God
And I came in this bitch my niggas
Kidnap the and the fuckin' babysitter, yeah
I be doin' me, don't give a fuck bout you doin'
gang bitch, big B's, Boston Bruins
I could do shit, eyes closed, nothin' to it
Bullets fuck body up, they ain't even tryna view it
I go tough, I go
Murk your pussy ass and everyone you in cahoots
Fuck you a pool stick
you swallow two dicks
Fuckin' right, we
We watched too many movies
smoked too many doobies
Murk you out, deuces
We know what truce is
That bullet proof so useless
Flag red bruises
Shoot ya head with uzis
I swear, your honor, I a dealer, I'm a user, ya dig
I load up the sig, it at ya wig
over on the highway, throw you off the bridge
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 bitches down, I break these off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got on the tape
Public apology, sorry for the