Luyện nghe bài hát What Part of The Game

I'm the greatest in the world, you who tryin to kid man
I will dunk on your big man
Been rappin for years, crackin them bears, the sound of platinum
Predict future cash and near, my speech is dittly
I bust shots until the heat heavy
Fuck bitches until the get sweaty
Beats and melodies, will me blink
I'll pull my shank out, and a warrior's cry
If you ain't wit my crew, all you die
You can tell I'm real, by in the ball of my eye
I get some cream from it, one day, your baby and my baby
Can my dough on Teem Summit
Countin the loot, the youth, the young God
Here's the inside thug, a Marmashad
Some wanna emotions and kill me
Put the toast to my kidney, when I speak most of them me
So, keep my name off ya
'Fore my nigga Gruff take the off ya chest
All guaranteeing, blaow, take the brain off ya
Off the top of the dough, one shot and you'll
Fuckin wit Panama P.I., guarantee I'll take ya ya zone

me and my nigga Hais, ride, lay loose
Case ya try to play Zeus, got the tray
Hidin right inside the bubble, goose
Not to quickly to make to news
ace deuce, caught cases, I got Gotti and O.J. juice
And my crew, you're very stackless, very now
Phase of every Rocky, turn caviar ass into, um
Chicken teriyaki, Spanish nigga try to on me
I say papi Rocky, wish he of shot me
I don't care if he frail or cock D
When I got the glock, B, stop me
And no judicial system could affix me, try to me
Over papes on mine, Mr. D.A., to lace ya dime
And tell P.H. that the camera job, come on, a waste of mine
'Cause I got my Curry, live in D.C
Work the spring court, you know for me, that scary
How nigga do, get in the building bitch hurry
Before my girl see, back to top, so she can me one on jury
Says hung, got her sprung, she that I'm young
Her toy boy, make her lick my ass wit a tongue
so smart, she's dumb, but I keep, tomorrow ain't promised
Now I need a one way flight to St. Thomas
And at the same time I got a JAG
And who knows, I might have bad
I can't borrow from niggas I ass
Go to your girl, I pop my truck
Don't make me Flex on you ghetto style Funkmaster

You got money, what it like?
You got crack, what it like?
You got a song, wit the hook
is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took mics
You got crack, it cook like?
You got a song, wit the hook
You got money, what it look like?
What of the game is that?
You fuck wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat

I live the God knowledge, my of life, he read like twice
Five percent shine, today the like, my attribute's like
Paretic chrome, I thrown, throw it at your dome,
It be known, like Sa clone, connect wit one zone
Cybernetic, verbal buck slang, king
Farad, all of ya dude, rock me Muhammad
I came swift, wit off as the shit, they catch it
Define this, got drawn so swift, couldn't it
Thug covert, sip drink, just like an Irish
like the infamous full blown antivirus
Apollus, mad Olympic, fragile
Supreme gymnast, ancient decent, scriptures
Equilibrium, catch me at the Wimbledon, gentlemen
jeans, Wu shirts, construction Timberland
You're nobody wit nothing and your name be Nathan
Who you facin, slugs blazin the

check it, I used to live reckless
Snatch necklace, nigga respect this
A catch this, blaow, trigga specialist
Is your death wish, you rib and chestless
Gun ho, real thug, every one know
From the Bumjo, to the kids, to
My niggas locked down doin state, did you
Twenty five to L, on the humble, real thug
shit, catch you, wouldn't dare fuck wit
Care rugged, from the skulls to the Timb's
Surroundin your Benz, wit niggas houndin gems
Yo pump this jam in joint
All my thug niggas wit the mamas on points
wise guys, gritty high guys, pretty mamas
I even make boricua, the titty tatas
Harlem World slugger, it explode like Pearl Harbor
Screw ma, get a Vodka
And get them hotter, slide 'em off, 'em proper
Yo I'm a sex fiend, fuckin in my 400 hundred ring
Flex cream, presidential rolly wit Gets

You got money, what it like?
You got crack, what it like?
You got a song, wit the hook
Word is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas mics
You got crack, what it like?
You got a song, wit the hook
You got some money, what it like?
part of the game is that?
You around wit my track, blaow, part of the flaming stat

You got money, it look like?
You got crack, it cook like?
You got a song, wit the like?
is bond, when P.I. hit the microphone, niggas took mics
You got crack, it cook like?
You got a song, wit the like?
You got some money, what it look
What of the game is that?
You fuck around wit my track, blaow, of the flaming stat