Luyện nghe bài hát We Made It

Make me wan' pop sumthin', no
Two-five on me, and crack on me
Bitch tried to get a rep' off me
him there, never know, get him off me
I remember days when we just bitches
Bought a lot of and, played the ave
Now we rap with a lot of wardrobes
And if we want a nigga dead we pay the
I ain't tryin to waste my on y'all
Even scuffle y'all, waste gear on y'all
But if I gotta go out, you know show out
You gon' fuck and get your whole back blown out
I remember on the Island, can't out
The mess hall crawler, to zone out
Dumb motherfuckers with our out
We just dumb with our microphone out

See me
I roll with Ghost and cats that carry they
the Post, front page and, center-Stagin'
When it's time to bust off them things, it ain't a man
We rocked out own diamond rings, see them 'Bling,
Got big boy toys, push
Dime bitches, told y'all we import those
Jury stay froze, cases get closed
Niggas Nino cuz how fast I rose up
Like George Jefferson and em, on em
The headline read, "Starks had the on em"
The best, what y'all He a vet
Plus the best, now me how we gon' fail
When we with 'Supreme Clientele']

Rikers Island to the Cayman Island
We like, life is the same challenge
Do the knowledge, recognize your
And if you live the streets, you better silent
From Rikers Island to the Island
We thugs like, life is the challenge
Do the knowledge, recognize talent
And if you the streets, you better stay silent

Yo, at The Mirage, Ghostface swarmed by groupies
Mingle amongst stars, I come in cat, Mars
Highlight of the century, bet placed upon entry
Fainted when the book me
Keep ballin, new systems, sciences
Drop that, listenin, track sizzlin
Angelica, Judy Plum for bitches, Goines king of the
Best for niggas, stay together
Posted up trucks, leanin on the
Cinemax smile in thrity-five lens
You program, bottles of Dom
Seven inch bangles, breakers
I'm a dope fiend, look at my arm, Popeye
Rap with a British accent, Gucci
Coles in the latest fashions
Blow backs in, flip raps fourty-eight bundles
Dinner plates, deadly front gates, celeb Bryant

Analyze This shit like Deniro, in your center earhole
of ice like Sub-Zero, we been right since day zero
Shatter soul like glass windows
Turn virgins to nymphos, pop these hollows at fake cats in a
Wild out, throw your liquor at hood rats to the richest models
We conversate like Christ and the twelve
Livin without you, can't count you as great men
in the state pen', bein caged in
The of sin, before they read up they pop our tape in
You ain't gotta tuck you chain in cuz here we the head of Satan
Durags and our pants