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

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

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

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My oblivion
Speakin the of carribean in tropolis
my z-z in
True clocker from recipiants
Type of a
An anamalisitc
My race
Jedi
The way I spits of my time
me a billboard, an you bet I climb
You mutha
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 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 an blue nigga
Undercovers like malik
Lyrically usin a force like yoda!

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

this madd maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo took
We get it fuck the good
True thug niggas that turned to real
Robbin the microphone, you get yo shook
I ya we takin over soldier
A sober niggas rollin
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, tech 9, an on ya
All wit the caulked gage, buggin out oklahoma
a corona
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 over like michael
An I'm the first to
So you fake ass niggas who be plannin a plot
I take yo block
Wit the nitroglycerian
got us fucked up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

They got us up
I've been
Since a buck
Nothin to
Lots of pain plus some war
It ain't shit, but a to me

I the man you claim to be
Niggas strike
Gun fight, we had to hype
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 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 feed these fuckin children of
Uh
Look in my
As I bleed the regime
(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 dumb to speak on the dirt I've did
Guess somebody the killer before the police did
him in the car leakin from dope over split wigs
Deadly to spit
Makin sure the killas feelin my
Explicit 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 wheel wit the 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 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 theme music for organized crime
Niggas that banks, and murdered guys for they pies
for the sky
Techniques robert deniro in "heat"
kani's
No disguise, in the of the street
Buckin at
Fuck
Got a range rove
Wit 12 faced gold teeth
A rolex
Cuban links, crops, an
But that ain't shit, to leave a naked, duct taped wit they bitch
In the
the safe is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up gettin they fuckin car grenaded
You want shit?
I spit the
That's smoother than a of new cinnamon timberlands
Get
But be no p
I'm from a city called weed
See regime niggas be wit me
Fuck juss remmy
True do drugs an come up wit hits
Like hendricks
the world like snoop at no limit
Yuk to rap-a-lot, yeah nigga
I ain't a playa, I juss
the gat
Tryin to yo watch in the back of the lot
Keep my shit for underground rock
Jackpot j struck it rich hit the
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. washington when you hit the 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 ? ?

when you got out.]

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