Luyện nghe bài hát Under Attack

Heeeyyy, uhh, half in yo mouth
Check it out, half ounce in the

Chrous: bring the yellow tape fosho,
Playa hatas infiltrate us niggas no,
Fools to die,
be afraid,
Bring your gun and your sac 'causez we attack,

1:
no chances,
End with up least circumstances,
Keeps a composure,
One time's takin glances,
Who your enemy on the evilest team,
all your c.r.e.a.m.,
Havin worst bad dreams,
Pesos for all the
And the sistas,
How ya us now,
gon' bow,
Ain't nothin' top dollar corner to corner,
Keeps my hand in the pie little jack horner,
Soldiers on my left ready to die,
Infiltraters six feet our head to the sky,
Its a cold cruel world to watch my back,
Got these cold ass thugs to ride and jack,
Shiit!! for the paper,
Street and all,
Best be ready to hit the doo' the one times call,
Gots the picture it's still for the son,
And if you're bailin' compton you betta bring a gun,

2x

Verse2: bam
I deliever my blow it be fatal,
Get yo ass like potatoes and gravy,
Maybe with prctice you can fade me,
But I it, picked up the compton time
And read about it, how my crew the front page
In a rage, in a live blowin blunts on stage,
People swingin' on a and got the place packed
To the maximum capacity, comin from far and near,
To get a glimpse of these gang-bangers, playas and pimps, it out,
When we roll we rolls thick like some ass hair,
Straight chronic up in the air,
So get it nigga,
and eiht nigga,(geeyyaa),
Peeped yo' from the start nigga,
We you fake nigga,
We gots to a close eye fools under our backs,
the gates sound the guns 'causez we under attack.

Verse3: mc
Betta' watch out for the murder I wrote, super spokes
stars and a black leather coat, on a mission,
Dead I gots to stackin, enemies can't see the ya-ya
In my jacket, best raise up I set it off on g.p.,
First rule if you tryin' to bring to me,
Felony catcher to the first degree,
Like the ginger bread man can't catch me,
On the run stilla nigga no jail cells,
two steps ahead, no traces for feds,
Phone taps instead, on the phone,
as fuck 'causez they don't know the number was called,
Outta the country, d.a. on the yall,
Me and a little on my side the black heater,
Sweeter than the rest, paid pounds at sippin,
shippin to the u.s.a.,