Luyện nghe bài hát Under Attack

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

Chrous: the yellow tape nigga 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 that circumstances,
a cool composure,
One takin those glances,
Who be's enemy on the evilest team,
all your c.r.e.a.m.,
Havin your bad dreams,
for all the amigos
And the sistas,
How ya us now,
gon' bow,
Ain't nothin' top dollar corner to corner,
Keeps my in the pie like little jack horner,
Soldiers on my left right to die,
six feet keeps our head to the sky,
Its a cold cruel world to watch my back,
Got these ass thugs ready to ride and jack,
Shiit!! for the paper,
dreams and all,
Best be ready to hit the doo' the one times call,
Gots the picture it's for the money son,
And if you're bailin' compton you betta bring a gun,

2x

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

Verse3: mc
Betta' watch out for the I wrote, black super spokes
Black stars and a leather coat, on a mission,
Dead I gots to stackin, enemies can't see the ya-ya
In my jacket, best up before I set it off on g.p.,
rule if you tryin' to bring harm 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 instead, on the celluar phone,
as fuck 'causez they don't know the number was called,
Outta the country, d.a. on the yall,
Me and a senortia on my side the black heater,
Sweeter than the rest, paid at gate sippin,
shippin to the u.s.a.,