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 if you thugged out
The up in this bitch!

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

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

No dragon tattoo on you,
No love us
In we trust
Niggas get like hot whitend snuff
Up yo
I fuck up yo
Leave my competition ass
We tag on toes
I'm as cold as
Enemies get to a pole, blind fold then I unload.

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My oblivion
the opposite of carribean in tropolis
my z-z in
True clocker from welfare
Type of a
An tupac-er
My caristian
rhyme
The way I spits ahead of my
me a billboard, an you bet I climb
You fuckas
I rukus
Thug, you hug crutches
Stayin from you nothin but bum bustas
The is back an we bugged out
Phats, keke, maxx, l.q., gonzoe an my nigga yukmouth
These beggin me to come to menage
A
But hear us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, on the crew nigga
You cannot block the regime from makin knots, no matter you do

Ya black an blue
like malik yoba
Lyrically usin a force like yoda!

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

this madd maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo life
We get it fuck the good
True thug niggas turned to real crooks
the microphone, you get yo brain shook
I told ya we over soldier
A sober rollin rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All ready wit the caulked gage, out oklahoma
Fuck a
We 8-balls until we fall out
If you got a problem wit the regime, your called out
We all out for war
These niggas don't want no
I'm takin over like michael
An I'm the to score
So fuck you fake ass niggas who be plannin a
I take yo over
Wit the rock
They got us up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

got us fucked up
I've tough
a young buck
Nothin to
Lots of pain plus war cuts
It shit, but a thang to me

I the man you claim to be
Niggas back
Gun fight, we had to back
This is the phats see like a fat kat
They wanna funk, we get in black
Caulk the
Screamin regime til they bust
It's mobb-symboly, I die you me
wit dragons in a custom coffin bently

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

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

No I've been to the pen
But I did a bid
An I ain't enough to speak on the dirt I've did
Guess caught the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin from dope over wigs
Deadly lyrics to
Makin sure the killas my shit
lyrics an adult content
Shot callas representin at all the events
And gang got the streets juss way too tense
I to deal wit it
I'm in the fields, windows tinted on my wheel wit the in it
We puffin an rollin real wit it
That jury linin, showcasin our to benifits
Of a time grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And rented from my tailors
young playas, strivin for greater
You know all bad
Let's make it all
the cavvy to touch the navvi wit the leather an wood
It's nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest nigga the "o"
My flow is certified music for organized crime
Niggas that burglurised banks, and guys for they pies
for the sky
Techniques like deniro in "heat"
Karl
No disguise, in the middle of the
at police
Fuck
Got a range rove
Wit 12 open faced gold
A piece
Cuban links, crops, an
But that ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, taped wit they bitch
In the
the safe is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up gettin they fuckin car grenaded
You blazed shit?
I the nitroglycerian
That's smoother than a pair of new cinnamon
Get
But be no p
I'm from a city called weed
See these niggas be wit me
Fuck christy juss
True thugs do an come up wit hits
jimmi hendricks
Shock the like snoop at no limit
Yuk to rap-a-lot, yeah nigga
I ain't a playa, I mack-a-lot
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo in the back of the lot
Keep my shit for fragment rock
j struck it rich hit the lottery
The top
Blood on wallet be robbin sprees
Rock phat farm, wit tats all my arm
Bullet wounds a nigga fresh back from nam
Yo nigga get yo on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

[how old were you, mr. 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 to myself. took it. one block at a time. nobody
me.