Luyện nghe bài hát We Made It

Make me wan' pop sumthin', no
on me, weed and crack on me
Bitch 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 with a lot of wardrobes
And if we want a nigga we pay the cash
I ain't to waste 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 back blown out
I remember on the Island, tone out
The mess crawler, about to zone out
motherfuckers with our microphone out
We just dumb motherfuckers with our out

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

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

Yo, spotted at The Mirage, swarmed by groupies
Mingle amongst stars, I come in cat, invades
Highlight of the century, first bet upon entry
Fainted when the book me
ballin, new systems, high sciences
Drop that, Ghost listenin, sizzlin
Angelica, Judy Plum for bitches, king of the century
Best sellers for niggas, stay
up trucks, leanin on the Benz
Cinemax smile shot in thrity-five
You program, bottles of Dom
Seven inch bangles, back
I'm a dope fiend, at my arm, Popeye strength
Rap with a British accent, Gucci
Coles in the latest fashions
Blow in, flip raps like fourty-eight bundles
Dinner plates, front gates, celeb 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 hollows at fake cats in a Tahoe
Wild out, your liquor bottles at hood rats to the richest models
We conversate Christ and the twelve apostles
Livin without you, can't count you as great men
in the state 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