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 a lot of wardrobes
And if we a nigga dead we pay the cash
I ain't tryin to my career on y'all
Even with y'all, waste gear on y'all
But if I gotta go out, you know show out
You fuck around and get your whole back blown out
I remember on the Island, can't out
The mess crawler, about to zone out
motherfuckers with our microphone out
We dumb motherfuckers with our microphone out

See me
I roll with Ghost and cats that carry toast
Make the Post, front page and,
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 y'all we import those
Jury stay froze, court get closed
Niggas hate Nino cuz how I rose up
George Jefferson and em, steppin on em
The headline read, "Starks had the on em"
The best, y'all expect? He a vet
Plus the best, now tell me how we fail
we dealin with 'Supreme Clientele']

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

Yo, spotted at The Mirage, Ghostface by groupies
amongst stars, I come in cat, invades Mars
Highlight of the century, first bet placed entry
Fainted when the mentioned me
Keep ballin, new systems, sciences
Drop that, listenin, track sizzlin
Angelica, Judy Plum for bitches, king of the century
Best sellers for niggas, stay
Posted up trucks, on the Benz
Cinemax smile shot in thrity-five
You program, bottles of Dom
Seven inch bangles, back
I'm a dope fiend, look at my arm, Popeye
Rap with a British accent, Gucci
Dennis Coles in the latest
backs in, flip raps like fourty-eight bundles
Dinner plates, deadly front gates, Bryant Gumbel

Analyze This like Deniro, words in your center earhole
Blocks of ice like Sub-Zero, we right since day zero
Shatter your like glass windows
Turn virgins to nymphos, pop hollows at fake cats in a Tahoe
Wild out, your liquor 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 pen', bein caged in
The wages of sin, before they read up pop our tape in
You ain't gotta tuck you chain in cuz here we want the head of
Durags and our hangin