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!

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

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

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

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My choppers
Speakin the opposite of in tropolis
my z-z in
True clocker welfare recipiants
of a crispy
An anamalisitc
My race
rhyme
The way I spits of my time
me a billboard, an you bet I climb
You mutha
I rukus
Thug, you hug crutches
Stayin away from you nothin but bum
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 muslims us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, that's on the nigga
You cannot the regime from makin knots, no matter what you do

Ya black an blue
Undercovers malik yoba
nina's usin a force like yoda!

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

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

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

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

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

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

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

No never been to the pen
But I did a bid
An I dumb enough to speak 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 killas my shit
Explicit lyrics an adult
callas representin at all the major events
And gang got the streets juss way too tense
I learned to wit it
I'm in the fields, windows tinted on my wit the steel in it
We keep an rollin real wit it
jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits
Of a long grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And suits from my tailors
young playas, strivin for greater
You it's all bad
Let's it all good
Pushin the to touch the navvi wit the leather an wood
regime nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest from the "o"
My flow is certified theme music for crime
that burglurised banks, and murdered guys for they pies
for the sky
Techniques like deniro in "heat"
kani's
No disguise, in the of the street
Buckin at
police
Got a range rove
Wit 12 faced gold teeth
A piece
Cuban links, crops, an
But that ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, taped wit they bitch
In the
Where the is?
Big
Cops raided, but up gettin they fuckin squad car grenaded
You want blazed
I the nitroglycerian
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 an come up wit hits
Like hendricks
Shock the world snoop at no limit
Yuk to rap-a-lot, yeah nigga
I a playa, I juss mack-a-lot
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo watch in the of the lot
Keep my shit for underground fragment
j struck it rich hit the lottery
The top
Blood on wallet be from sprees
Rock farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet wounds like a nigga back from nam
Yo get yo mash 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 description of how you lived, the few
Years.]

I kinda moved up. I lived 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.