Luyện nghe bài hát Turn Up The Mic

[Intro:
I only fuck with my niggaz, I gotta it tight
With my big brother, Bumpy
We gon' ride on niggaz my nigga, huh
up the mics, yeah, lets get crazy, nigga, what
Turn up the mics, bitch-ass niggaz is Swayze
it out

[Verse 1:
I'm Nasty but bitches, handcuff snitches
Feed they nuts to pit bulls and plan more
Got on leashes walkin on all fours
Have 'em eatin from dog bowls pettin' heads
Cause they love playin role they sexy in bed
Smokin bud' I'm outta control wish death on the
Cup spills with Grey Goose watchin films
Laughin with dykes wear patent leather with spikes
My cheddar is right, Miami playin it low
St. Barts a house and a boat
Two hundred thou' on my
only half of what my wife ice cost
Phonecall, another boss got his life lost
Well, wipin' sand off of my
Read a book "Catcher in the rye", I chose
Some Bob then I plotted a scheme
To make me and Bump Knux more
Then I got me a team, he got 'em a
He tryin to buy G-force with missile
Tired of walkin' around beef, with that pistols on us
C-4's better I'm callin up b-more killers
To come and you
As sure as the sun's in the sky surely die
You washed up, fuck your
Your money ain't as as mine you dumb and you foul
Who you tryin to squeeze all this fuck Alzheimer's disease
We the new breed,

Nas (& Freddie Foxxx)]
up the mics,
Uh holler at somebody
out the lights,
Bump Knux, God's Son get it motherfucker
Turn up the
(Aha yeah the motherfuckers up)
out the lights
(That's right know why, I tell you why)
Suicide

[Verse 2: Bumpy
It's Bump I'm I'm wild
I'm I'm sick I talk slick
Name bitches all on my dick
I trip I meet bitches in this game that got pretty famous names
All that pussy, nigga, all the same
We gangsters, we keepin it hardcore it street
guns and microphones, be keepin heat
I'm the beef I put it in your rider
That means that show I be layin in your dressing room
Next to the Henney Rock two .20 cocked
I'm a cold assed that keep shit plenty hot
My bubble is stocked with double truth
For you gangsters and you troubled youth
; I hate cops and niggaz with cop friends
And still by weight in the hood they ends
With marks on 'em scratched by the eye
You hand me a twenty, you must die
Nigga, I won't a Pac record or say a Biggie verse
And I shoot you without smokin a Marley first
God's Son we hot in
we hot in here, niggaz they got to fear!

[Outro:
Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch ass is Swayze
it out
Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch ass niggaz is
it out
Turn up the mics, lets get crazy, nigga whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch ass is Swayze
Shh