Luyện nghe bài hát What Part of The Game

I'm the greatest rapper in the world, you who to kid man
I will slam dunk on big man
Been rappin for years, crackin them bears, the sound of chairs
Predict future cash and near, my speech is dittly
I bust until the heat gets heavy
Fuck until the sheets get sweaty
and melodies, will make me blink
I'll my shank out, and give a warrior's cry
If you ain't wit my crew, all you die
You can tell I'm real, by lookin in the of my eye
I will get some cream from it, one day, your baby and my
Can my some on Teem Summit
Countin the loot, fountain the youth, the God
the inside thug, like a Marmashad
Some wanna have emotions and me
Put the toast to my kidney, I speak most of them feel me
So, my name off ya breath
'Fore my nigga Gruff take the off ya chest
All guaranteeing, blaow, take the off ya neck
Off the top of the dough, one and you'll blow
Fuckin wit Panama P.I., I'll take ya outta ya zone

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

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

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

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

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

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