Luyện nghe bài hát Trap Vibes

[Part 1: Sixteen]

Turn me up some
I told Barcelini if them niggas hatin' they gon'
I'm up a hundred every day
You how I play!

Skinny nigga in the truck
Swingin' like a nunchuck
Summertime them 30s out
Tell Coon put the up
Wait... hold up, up
How can go against us?
Cold wouldn't even shoot us
See us roll on 'em like a brush
Phil movin' out bandos
We leavin' 'til the brick's done
Couple hundred, we vac seal 'em
Just to ride with it a Brinks truck
Wait, wait, Louboutins and the wrist
Bitch you claiming I done fuck
You ain't even gotta trip,
In the trenches in the
Fuck I got the tint for?
I'm the nigga got one
Who the fuck I gotta from?
ridin' shotgun
Shooters with him, never mind
Young on Sigel Street
Word to Mack, rock somethin'
Wait, wait!
North side of my side of town
Bulletproof whip I ride around
Niggas shit when I'm not around
Wouldn't tell you that we run the
But we movin', gotta say we now
Hit the and we runnin' down
Ain't no now, niggas out of bounds
this, plug that
Niggas rappin', they never sold nothin'
Hold this hold
I ain't lettin' these niggas nothin'
Summertime, niggas coppin' foreign
You can tell the load
Put my on the flyer
All the trappers, all the bad hoes
Niggas dickridin' other niggas, that's a now
I'm still rockin' the same Chasers I've been 'round
Got so much work out we might down
I'm so poppin' all my turn friends now
dancin' like Mike Jackson
Shit shining Mike's jacket
Moonwalkin' in a Royce
the rearview, see my life backwards
Percocets, popped two 10s on a 20, now I ain't active
So wavy, nigga I ain't
tell me that I ain't swaggin', no way

[Part 2:

This summer right here,
We up
Litted, litted
Philly!

I'm broads in Atlanta
of drugs and the Fanta
Bunch of in the Phantom
Spendin' like a scammer
My niggas in the kitchen whippin'
Whippin', livin' at the hammer
Duckin' law and the
my dawgs out the slammer
Black car,
call, never answer
20 foreigns in the
Diamonds on me and dancin'
I don't really rappers
jumpin' on bandwagons
All these got my pants saggin'
63s on the wagon
62s on the
Bitch I'm comin' for the
62s in the pot,
Tryna it up and bring it way back
You in the and spending your cop money
All on the 'Gram actin' that you got money
We at you like you need to stop money
You killin' yourself with that half a block money
I got that go to the mall and get what I paper
You the type I fall, that's what you want, hater
'Member back when I was I only had one hater
These gon' hate you no matter you broke or you own paper
bands, added up
We gettin' money, mad at us
At the jeweler more Rollies
I think these niggas man enough
Fuck them niggas, we stuntin' on 'em
Niggas, they ain't got on us
Niggas we never fuck with
Run and tellin' people we fronted on 'em
Nigga me put a hundred on you
Do you dirty, put the on you
Shots stoppin', pop, pop, pop, pop
run up on you
Dead bodies,
Head shot, cry
lookin', got an alibi
Lawyer money, nigga, buyin'
Hold! They hit my nigga in his head
Hold! Took him to LIV my nigga ain't
No! Ball in on Sunday, we did
Ho! Blowin' the racks, we at Vanity
All Panamera
White bitch Samantha
White and black, she a
and black, she a panda
Whippin' the... rock the...

I should have just run the rest...