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!

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

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

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

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My choppers
Speakin the 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
Give me a billboard, an you bet I
You fuckas
I love
Thug, makin you hug
Stayin from you nothin but bum bustas
The empire is an we bugged out
Phats, keke, maxx, poppa l.q., gonzoe an my nigga
These bitches beggin me to come to
A
But hear us say, "hum to allah"
fly, that's on the crew nigga
You cannot block the regime makin knots, no matter what you do

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

3 *(madd maxx of the regime)*

Nigga this madd
You cross the regime, you get yo life
We get it fuck the good
thug niggas that turned to real crooks
Robbin the microphone, you get yo brain
I ya we takin over soldier
A sober niggas rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All ready wit the caulked gage, out oklahoma
Fuck a
We drinkin 8-balls until we 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 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)*

They got us up
been tough
Since a buck
Nothin to
Lots of plus some war cuts
It shit, but a thang to me

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

I'm down to blast so tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an blown off the geniti
wit me
See these in mine
this shrine
To feed these fuckin of mine
Uh
Look in my
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 ain't enough to speak on the dirt I've did
somebody caught the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin from dope split wigs
Deadly to spit
Makin sure the killas feelin my
lyrics an adult content
Shot callas representin at all the major
And gang bangin got the streets way too tense
I learned to wit it
I'm in the fields, windows on my wheel wit the steel in it
We puffin an rollin real wit it
That jury linin, showcasin our to benifits
Of a long time grindin, the fruits of our labor
And rented from my tailors
Some young playas, strivin for
You it's all bad
make it all good
Pushin the cavvy to touch the navvi wit the an wood
It's nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

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

*(talking)*

[how old were you, mr. washington 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 kinda moved up. I 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. it. one block at a time. nobody
me.