Luyện nghe bài hát We Made It

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

See me
I roll with Ghost and cats that carry toast
Make the Post, front and, center-Stagin'
When time to bust off them things, it ain't a game man
We rocked out own rings, see them 'Bling, Bling'
Got big boy toys, Sixes
bitches, told y'all before we import those
Jury stay froze, court get closed
Niggas hate Nino cuz how I rose up
Like George Jefferson and em, on em
The read, "Starks had the weapon on em"
The best, y'all expect? He a vet
the best, now tell me how we gon' fail
When we with 'Supreme Clientele']

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

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

Analyze This shit like Deniro, words in your earhole
Blocks of ice like Sub-Zero, we been right since day
Shatter your soul like glass
Turn virgins to nymphos, pop these at fake cats in a Tahoe
Wild out, throw your bottles at hood rats to the richest models
We conversate like Christ and the apostles
Livin life you, can't count you as great men
Murderers in the state pen', bein in
The wages of sin, before they read up pop our tape in
You ain't tuck you chain in cuz here we want the head of Satan
and our pants hangin