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, first nigga drugged out.

1 *(yukmouth)*

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

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

2 *(tech n9ne of the regime)*

out
My choppers
Speakin the opposite of carribean in
my z-z in
True from welfare recipiants
of a crispy
An anamalisitc
My race
rhyme
The way I spits ahead of my
me a billboard, an you bet I climb
You fuckas
I rukus
Thug, you hug crutches
away from you nothin but bum bustas
The empire is back an we 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"
fly, that's on the crew nigga
You cannot block the regime makin knots, no matter what you do

Ya black an nigga
like malik yoba
Lyrically nina's usin a like yoda!

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

this madd maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo life
We get it the good book
True thug niggas that turned to real
the microphone, you get yo brain shook
I told ya we takin soldier
A niggas rollin rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All wit the caulked gage, buggin out oklahoma
a corona
We drinkin until we fall out
If you got a wit the regime, your souls called out
We all out for war
niggas don't want no more
I'm over like michael jordan
An I'm the first to
So fuck you fake ass niggas who be plannin a
I take yo block
Wit the rock
They got us up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

got us fucked up
I've been
Since a buck
to prove
Lots of pain some war cuts
It shit, but a thang to me

I play the man you to be
strike back
Gun fight, we had to hype
This is the phats see dream 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 dragons in a custom bently

I'm to blast so don't tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an blown off the geniti
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 of money 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
Guess somebody caught the before the police did
Find him in the car leakin from dope over split
Deadly lyrics to
sure the killas feelin my shit
Explicit an adult content
Shot callas representin at all the events
And gang bangin got the juss way too tense
I to deal wit it
I'm in the fields, tinted on my wheel wit the steel in it
We puffin an rollin real wit it
That jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to
Of a long time grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our
And rented suits from my
Some young playas, strivin for
You know all bad
Let's make it all
Pushin the to touch the navvi wit the leather an wood
regime nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The nigga from the "o"
My flow is theme music for organized crime
Niggas that burglurised banks, and 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 rove
Wit 12 open faced teeth
A rolex
Cuban links, crops, an
But that shit, to leave a nigga naked, duct taped wit they bitch
In the
Where the is?
Big
raided, but ended up gettin they fuckin squad car grenaded
You want blazed
I spit the
That's than a pair of new cinnamon timberlands
Get
But be no p
I'm from a called weed city
See these regime be wit me
Fuck christy juss
thugs do drugs an come up wit hits
Like jimmi
the world like snoop at no limit
Yuk signed to rap-a-lot, nigga
I ain't a playa, I mack-a-lot
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo in the back of the lot
Keep my shit for fragment rock
Jackpot j struck it hit the lottery
The top
Blood on be from robbin sprees
Rock phat farm, wit all over my arm
wounds like a nigga fresh back from nam
Yo get yo mash 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 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 ? ?

when you got out.]

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