Luyện nghe bài hát We Made It

Make me pop sumthin', no champagne
Two-five on me, weed and on me
motherfucker tried to get a rep' off me
Leave him there, know, get him off me
I days when we just fucked bitches
a lot of clothes and, played the ave
Now we rap niggas with a lot of
And if we want a nigga dead we pay the
I ain't tryin to my career on y'all
Even scuffle with y'all, gear on y'all
But if I gotta go out, you I'mma show out
You gon' fuck around and get your whole back out
I on the Island, can't tone out
The mess hall crawler, about to out
Dumb motherfuckers our microphone out
We dumb motherfuckers with our microphone out

See me
I roll with Ghost and cats that carry they
Make the Post, 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 'Bling, Bling'
Got big boy toys, Sixes
Dime bitches, told before we import those
Jury stay froze, cases get closed
Niggas hate Nino cuz how I rose up
Like George and em, steppin on em
The read, "Starks had the weapon on em"
The best, what expect? He a vet
the best, now tell me how we gon' fail
When we with 'Supreme Clientele']

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

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

Analyze This shit like Deniro, in your center earhole
Blocks of ice like Sub-Zero, we been since day zero
your soul like glass windows
Turn to nymphos, pop these hollows at fake cats in a Tahoe
Wild out, throw your liquor bottles at hood rats to the richest
We conversate like and the twelve apostles
Livin life without you, can't count you as men
Murderers in the state pen', bein in
The wages of sin, before they read up they pop our in
You ain't gotta tuck you chain in cuz we want the head of Satan
Durags and our hangin