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 up in this bitch!

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

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

No dragon tattoo on you,
No from us
In thugs we
Niggas get rushed like hot whitend
Up yo
I fuck up yo
my competition ass froze
We tag on toes
I'm as as pocinos
Enemies get tied to a pole, fold then I unload.

2 *(tech n9ne of the regime)*

out
My choppers
Speakin the opposite of carribean in
my z-z in
True from welfare recipiants
Type of a
An anamalisitc
My caristian
Jedi
The way I spits ahead of my
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 an we bugged out
Phats, keke, maxx, poppa l.q., an my nigga yukmouth
These bitches me to come to menage
A
But hear us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, that's on the crew
You cannot block the regime makin knots, no matter what you do

Ya black an nigga
Undercovers malik yoba
Lyrically nina's usin a like yoda!

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

Nigga this maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo took
We get it the good book
True thug niggas that turned to real
Robbin the microphone, you get yo shook
I told ya we takin over
A sober niggas rollin
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All ready wit the caulked gage, buggin out
Fuck a
We 8-balls until we fall out
If you got a problem wit the regime, souls called out
We all out for war
These niggas don't no more
I'm takin like michael jordan
An I'm the first to
So fuck you 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 tough
Since a young
to prove
Lots of pain plus war cuts
It shit, but a thang to me

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

I'm down to blast so tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an hella off the geniti
wit me
See killas in mine
this shrine
To these fuckin children of mine
Uh
in my eyes
As I bleed the nigga
(regime nigga, nigga)
a pile of money machine.

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

No I've never to the pen
But I did a bid
An I ain't dumb enough to on the dirt I've did
Guess caught the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin from over split wigs
Deadly lyrics to
Makin sure the feelin my shit
lyrics an adult content
Shot callas at all the major events
And gang bangin got the streets way too tense
I to deal wit it
I'm in the fields, windows tinted on my wit the steel in it
We keep puffin an rollin wit it
That jury linin, our diamonds to benifits
Of a long time grindin, the fruits of our labor
And rented suits from my
young playas, strivin for greater
You it's all bad
Let's make it all
Pushin the cavvy to touch the wit the leather an wood
It's nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The nigga from the "o"
My flow is certified theme for organized crime
Niggas that burglurised banks, and murdered for they pies
for the sky
Techniques robert deniro in "heat"
Karl
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 nigga naked, duct taped wit they
In the
the safe is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up gettin they squad car grenaded
You want shit?
I the nitroglycerian
That's smoother than a pair of new timberlands
Get
But be no p
I'm a city called weed city
See these niggas be wit me
christy juss remmy
True do drugs an come up wit hits
jimmi hendricks
Shock the world like 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
Jackpot j struck it hit the lottery
The top
Blood on wallet be robbin sprees
Rock farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet wounds like a fresh back from nam
Yo nigga get yo on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

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

10.

[how did you ]

I a runner.

[a runner.]

right.

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

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

when you got out.]

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