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, nigga gettin drugged out.

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

No dragon tattoo on you,
No from us
In we trust
Niggas get rushed hot whitend snuff
Up yo
I fuck up yo
Leave my competition ass
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 oblivion
Speakin the opposite of in tropolis
my z-z in
True clocker from recipiants
of a crispy
An anamalisitc
My caristian
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 away from you but bum bustas
The empire is an we bugged out
Phats, keke, maxx, poppa l.q., gonzoe an my yukmouth
These bitches me to come to menage
A
But muslims us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, that's on the nigga
You cannot block the regime from makin knots, no what you do

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

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

Nigga madd maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo life
We get it fuck the good
True niggas that turned to real crooks
Robbin the microphone, you get yo shook
I ya we takin over soldier
A sober rollin rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All ready wit the caulked gage, out oklahoma
Fuck a
We drinkin until we fall out
If you got a problem wit the regime, your souls out
We all out for war
These niggas want no more
I'm takin like michael jordan
An I'm the first to
So fuck you fake ass niggas who be a plot
I take yo over
Wit the nitroglycerian
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 war cuts
It shit, but a thang to me

I play the man you 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
Caulk the
Screamin regime til they back
mobb-symboly, I die you remember me
Tatted wit dragons in a custom bently

I'm down to so don't tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an hella off the geniti
wit me
See killas in mine
this shrine
To feed these children of mine
Uh
Look in my
As I bleed the 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 to speak on the dirt I've did
Guess somebody caught the killer before the did
Find him in the car from dope over split wigs
lyrics to spit
Makin sure the feelin my shit
Explicit lyrics an content
Shot callas representin at all the events
And gang got the streets juss way too tense
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
That jury linin, our diamonds to benifits
Of a time grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And rented from my tailors
Some young playas, strivin for
You know all bad
Let's it all good
Pushin the to touch the navvi wit the leather an wood
regime nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest nigga the "o"
My flow is certified theme music for organized
Niggas that burglurised banks, and guys for they pies
for the sky
Techniques like robert in "heat"
Karl
No disguise, in the middle of the
at police
police
Got a rove jeep
Wit 12 faced gold teeth
A rolex
Cuban links, crops, an
But that ain't shit, to a nigga naked, duct taped wit they bitch
In the
Where the is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up gettin fuckin squad car grenaded
You blazed shit?
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
jimmi hendricks
Shock the world snoop at no limit
Yuk signed to rap-a-lot, yeah
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
Jackpot j struck it hit the lottery
The top
Blood on be from robbin sprees
phat farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet like a nigga fresh back from nam
Yo get yo mash on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

old were you, mr. washington when you hit the streets permanatly? ]

10.

[how did you ]

I a runner.

[a runner.]

right.

[could you give us a of how you lived, the next few
Years.]

I kinda moved up. I lived where the money goes. 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.