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 regime up in bitch!

Throw up yo if you thugged out
First nigga act up, first nigga gettin 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 drug
Affiliated wit mobb niggas, and spillas
Put a slug through you tough

No dragon on you, nigga
No love us
In we trust
get rushed like hot whitend snuff
Up yo
I up yo flows
Leave my ass froze
We tag on toes
I'm as as pocinos
get tied to a pole, blind fold then I unload.

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My oblivion
Speakin the opposite of carribean in
my z-z in
True clocker welfare recipiants
of a crispy
An tupac-er
My race
rhyme
The way I spits ahead of my
Give me a billboard, an you bet I
You fuckas
I rukus
Thug, you hug crutches
Stayin away you nothin but bum bustas
The empire is back an we out
Phats, keke, maxx, l.q., gonzoe an my nigga yukmouth
These bitches beggin me to to menage
A
But hear us say, "hum to allah"
fly, that's on the crew nigga
You cannot block the regime from knots, no matter what you do

Ya black an blue
Undercovers like yoba
Lyrically usin a force like yoda!

3 *(madd maxx of the regime)*

Nigga madd maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo life
We get it the good book
True thug niggas that to real crooks
Robbin the microphone, you get yo brain
I told ya we takin over
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 souls 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 fuck you fake ass who be plannin a plot
I yo block over
Wit the rock
They got us up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

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

I play the man you to be
Niggas strike
Gun fight, we had to back
This is the phats see like a fat kat
They funk, we get dressed 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 to blast so don't tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an hella off the geniti
wit me
See these in mine
Buildin this
To these fuckin children of mine
Uh
Look in my
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 enough to speak on the dirt I've did
Guess somebody caught the killer the police did
him in the car leakin from dope over split wigs
Deadly to spit
Makin sure the killas my shit
Explicit an adult content
Shot callas at all the major events
And gang bangin got the streets juss way too
I to deal wit it
I'm in the fields, windows on my wheel wit the steel in it
We puffin an rollin real wit it
jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits
Of a time grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And rented from my tailors
Some young playas, for greater
You know all bad
Let's make it all
Pushin the cavvy to touch the navvi wit the an wood
It's nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest nigga the "o"
My flow is theme music for organized crime
Niggas that burglurised banks, and murdered for they pies
for the sky
Techniques like robert in "heat"
Karl
No disguise, in the middle of the
Buckin at
police
Got a range jeep
Wit 12 open gold teeth
A rolex
Cuban links, crops, an
But that ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, taped wit they bitch
In the
the safe is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up gettin they fuckin squad car
You blazed shit?
I the nitroglycerian
That's smoother than a pair of new cinnamon
Get
But be no p
I'm from a city weed city
See regime niggas be wit me
christy juss remmy
True thugs do drugs an come up wit
Like hendricks
Shock the like snoop at no limit
Yuk to rap-a-lot, yeah nigga
I ain't a playa, I juss
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo in the back of the lot
Keep my for underground fragment rock
j struck it rich hit the lottery
The top
Blood on wallet be from sprees
Rock farm, wit tats all over my arm
wounds like a nigga fresh back from nam
Yo nigga get yo on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

[how old were you, mr. 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 moved 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.