Luyện nghe bài hát Thugged Out

Yo! do this!
Uh!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Ha!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Ha!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
nigga!
Throw up yo hands if you out
The regime up in bitch!

Throw up yo hands if you out
First act up, first nigga gettin drugged out.
Throw up yo if you thugged out
nigga act up, first nigga gettin drugged out.

1 *(yukmouth)*

I do for the
killas, and drug dealers
Affiliated wit mobb niggas, and blood
Put a slug you tough niggas

No dragon on you, nigga
No from us
In we trust
get rushed like hot whitend snuff
Up yo
I fuck up yo
my competition ass froze
We tag on they
I'm as cold as
Enemies get tied to a pole, blind then I unload.

2 *(tech n9ne of the regime)*

out
My oblivion
Speakin the opposite of carribean in
my z-z in
True clocker from welfare
Type of a
An tupac-er
My race
rhyme
The way I ahead of my time
me a billboard, an you bet I climb
You mutha
I love
Thug, makin you hug
Stayin away you nothin but bum bustas
The empire is back an we out
Phats, keke, maxx, poppa l.q., gonzoe an my yukmouth
These bitches beggin me to to menage
A
But hear us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, on the crew nigga
You block the regime from makin knots, no matter what you do

Ya an blue nigga
Undercovers like malik
Lyrically nina's a force like yoda!

3 *(madd maxx of the regime)*

Nigga this maxx
You the regime, you get yo life took
We get it the good book
True niggas that turned to real crooks
the microphone, you get yo brain shook
I ya we takin over soldier
A sober niggas rollin
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All wit the caulked gage, buggin out oklahoma
a corona
We drinkin 8-balls we fall out
If you got a problem wit the regime, your souls out
We all out for war
These niggas don't want no
I'm takin like michael jordan
An I'm the first to
So you fake ass niggas who be plannin a plot
I take yo block
Wit the rock
got us fucked up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

got us fucked up
I've been
a young buck
Nothin to
Lots of pain plus some war
It ain't shit, but a to me

I play the man you to be
strike back
Gun fight, we had to back
is the phats see dream like a fat kat
They wanna funk, we get dressed in
the strap
Screamin regime til they back
It's mobb-symboly, I die you me
Tatted wit in a custom coffin bently

I'm down to blast so don't me
I'm hella drunk, an blown off the geniti
wit me
See these killas in
Buildin this
To feed fuckin children of mine
Uh
in my eyes
As I bleed the regime
(regime nigga, nigga)
Havin a pile of machine.

5 *(poppa l.q. of the regime)*

No I've been to the pen
But I did a bid
An I dumb enough to speak on the dirt I've did
somebody caught the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin dope over split wigs
Deadly lyrics to
Makin sure the killas my shit
Explicit an adult content
callas representin at all the major events
And gang bangin got the streets way too tense
I learned to wit it
I'm in the fields, tinted on my wheel wit the steel in it
We keep puffin an real wit it
jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits
Of a long grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And rented from my tailors
young playas, strivin for greater
You it's all bad
make it all good
Pushin the cavvy to touch the navvi wit the leather an
It's nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest nigga the "o"
My flow is certified theme music for crime
that burglurised banks, and murdered guys for they pies
for the sky
Techniques robert deniro in "heat"
kani's
No disguise, in the of the street
at police
Fuck
Got a range jeep
Wit 12 faced gold teeth
A rolex
links, crops, an bracelets
But that ain't shit, to leave a naked, duct taped wit they bitch
In the
Where the is?
Big
raided, but ended up gettin they fuckin squad car grenaded
You want blazed
I spit the
That's smoother than a of new cinnamon timberlands
Get
But be no p
I'm from a city weed city
See these regime be wit me
christy juss remmy
True thugs do an come up wit hits
Like jimmi
Shock the world snoop at no limit
Yuk signed to rap-a-lot, nigga
I ain't a playa, I mack-a-lot
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo watch in the of the lot
Keep my for underground fragment rock
j struck it rich hit the lottery
The top
Blood on wallet be robbin sprees
Rock farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet like a nigga fresh back from nam
Yo get yo mash on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

old were you, mr. washington when you hit the streets permanatly? ]

10.

[how did you ]

I a runner.

[a runner.]

right.

[could you give us a description of how you lived, the few
Years.]

I moved up. I lived where the money goes. then I got busted, 2 and
1/2 in ? ?

[and you got out.]

I got a piece of turf to myself. took it. one at a time. nobody
me.