Luyện nghe bài hát THRT (The End)

Yo a pimp gets threats
That's right, the the that's, that's threats them
And I'm serious mine, I'm so sin-surr
And I, nigga I'll ya, I'll chop ya up
Put ya inside the mattress like drug money

Yeah, I told you niggaz 9 or 10 times stop fuckin' with me
I told you niggaz 9 albums, stop fuckin' with me
I done told you niggaz the 9 on me, fuckin' with me
You niggaz got 9 lives, 9th wonder

Put knife in ya, take a little bit of life from ya
Am I frightenin' ya? I continue?
I put the gun to ya, I let it you a song
I let it hum to ya, the one sing along

Now a duet, and you wet, when you check out
The technique from the 2 tecs and I need two lips
To blow this like a trumpet you dumb
This is a un-usual I conductin'

You at the black Warren Buffett so all critics can duck sic
I don't care if you C. Tuck-it
Or you Bill O'Reilly, you only me up
For years, they had me peein' out of a cup

Now they to free me up, whatchu think I'm gon' be, what?
Rehabilitated, man I still hatred
I'm young black and rich so wanna strip me naked, but
You never had me like Christina

But catch me down the Westside, drivin' Halle Berry
Or the FDR, in the of my car
Screamin' out the sunroof, death to
You can't me, I live forever through these bars

I put the on ya, I put a price on your head
The whole want ya, you startin' to look like bread
I them boys at ya, I ain't talkin' bout Feds
Nigga them body-snatchers, nigga you heard what I

I make 'em wait for you five in the mornin'
Put your smarts on the of your garment
Nigga stop fuckin' me
R I P

right there nigga, nigga I'm wild
Nigga I keep trash bags me
Never know when you gotta dump a out
This sin-surr, some sin-surr shit right here

Grown man I put on you, I dig a hole in the desert
build The Sands on you, lay out blueprint plans on you
We Rat Pack niggaz, let Sam tap on you
Then, I Sinatra shot ya God you

I put the boy in the box David Blaine
Let the audience watch, it a thang
Y'all I was frontin', I George Bush the button
Front of all you in your car lift up your hood run it

Then up your whole hood like you got oil under it
Your boy got the goods, y'all don't want of it
Like, oil, I Castor Troy you
Change your or the bullets change all that for you

Y'all niggaz is targets, y'all garages for
Please make me park it in your upper level
a couple strays from the 38 special, nigga
God you

I make 'em wait for you 'til five in the
Put your smarts on the of your garment
Nigga fuckin' with me
R I P

Yeah I'm ya, yeah I'm threatenin' ya
Who you thank you dealin'
They call me Chris, I been makin' threats
I been in kindergarten nigga
Huh, ask me, see if you ain't heard

the gun is tucked, untucked, nigga you dies
Like held by the Jet L-I
I'm the one, thus no one must try
No two, no three, no four, why?

Because one's four-five might yo' high
You ain't go to church to get to know yo' God
It's a match made in heaven I 'splay the 7
Put you on the news, UPN at 11

Where you been, you heard, got the word that I'm
That I'm so
I'm Joe Pesci with a grin
I will kill you, suicide, and kill you again, that's right

I 'em wait for you 'til five in the mornin'
Put your smarts on the side of garment
Nigga stop fuckin' me
R I P

Whattup? I keep three motherfuckers what?
I'll throw a Molotov cocktail
Through your momma's momma's
what the, where everybody live

Undercover nigga take your teeth out your nigga
Chew your up and put the shit back
In your nigga and help you swallow
Nigga I take a mop handle off
And sweep nigga, hold on, be nigga what?