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

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

No tattoo on you, nigga
No from us
In thugs we
Niggas get like hot whitend snuff
Up yo
I fuck up yo
Leave my competition ass
We tag on toes
I'm as as pocinos
Enemies get to a pole, blind fold 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 anamalisitc
My race
rhyme
The way I spits of my time
Give me a billboard, an you bet I
You fuckas
I love
Thug, makin you hug
Stayin away from you nothin but bum
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, that's on the crew
You cannot block the regime from knots, no matter what you do

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

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

Nigga this maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo took
We get it fuck the book
True thug niggas that turned to real
the microphone, you get yo brain shook
I told ya we takin over
A niggas rollin rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, tech 9, an on ya
All ready wit the gage, buggin out oklahoma
a corona
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 want no more
I'm takin like 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)*

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
Niggas strike
Gun fight, we had to back
This is the phats see dream a fat kat
They wanna funk, we get in black
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 hella blown off the
wit me
See these in mine
Buildin this
To these fuckin children of mine
Uh
in my eyes
As I the regime nigga
(regime nigga, nigga)
Havin a pile of 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
somebody caught the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin dope over split wigs
Deadly lyrics to
Makin sure the feelin my shit
Explicit lyrics an adult
callas representin at all the major events
And bangin 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 puffin an rollin wit it
That jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to
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
Let's it all good
Pushin the cavvy to touch the navvi wit the leather an
regime nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest from the "o"
My flow is certified music for organized crime
Niggas burglurised banks, and murdered guys 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 piece
Cuban links, crops, an
But that ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, duct taped wit they
In the
Where the is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up they 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 a city called weed city
See these regime be wit me
Fuck juss remmy
True thugs do drugs an come up wit
Like jimmi
Shock the world like snoop at no
Yuk to rap-a-lot, yeah nigga
I ain't a playa, I 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 robbin sprees
Rock farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet wounds like a nigga fresh 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 us a description 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 ? ?

[and you got out.]

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