Luyện nghe bài hát What You Sayin

(Chorus)
Hit you with no delaying so you saying yo
Ni**as ain't paying so I just laying low
I'm all about famo Marlin Brando
My bi**h go commando, I'm in command
I hit you ammo, quick as a
I play with her pu**y like flipping channels
And my bi**hes is too live like Campbell
And I'm spitting this s**t though like I chew
(Verse)
shimmy ya shimmy yay
I'ma kick a in his mouth
I'ma stick a semi in his mouth, face
I'ma the weight in the drought, Ricki Lake
I'ma put get the and put it out, Em & Dre
I'ma f**k her and her mom, Kim & Ye
They respect all my artistry Hemingway
And they all of my martians
why they give me space muthaf**ka
Know you see what's up in my hand so you sayin wo
I put yo f**king brains all on the dashboard
You not in my f**king lane you on the crash
And you froggy leap I'm kidnapping yo tadpoles
I can't remember the bi**h name I f**ked after my show
When I say my cash low I'm telling a bad joke
Long hair dont care, no like Fabio
Little ni**a dread locks with a d**k with an
Ahh, I got you all in check
I make her (Ooh Ahh) and now she on my
I'm my
We riding on set
And we can shoot out it's quiet on the set
Boo ya like Stu Scott and up where he rest
I'm groundbreaking and I'm taking baby steps
I'm to bust a rhyme, nod yo head and break ya neck
I'ma kill motherf**kas, you ain't dead, fake ya death
I ain't playing, I'ma hit you with no delaying and I paying ho
I come through me and my woes looking
This is a what? Gucci falling the sky
Let's get rich what? Boy, I been since 1995
you been boy
Money talks and I'm about to a invoice to them boys
Yea I'm of this bullshit
I'm I'm too lit
I aim at yo toothpick, yo brains in yo boot tips
Yeah, I'm tied up and fair, put some on yo head
Now they can't find your body, like the in the bed
This is it, boy, you dug yoself a hole
That's a pit, boy, that's s**t, boy
Uh, type of a ni**a that'll slap you the tooley-oh
It ain't about what you smoke, it's about who you
My Hoody, yo, he real moody, yo
I tell him no bullet folks, he do it tho
They give you a funeral, you won't be
When Tunechi come thru the door, them hoes get soaked
Now do you really wanna with me?
Let me sees got fo me
Aye, do you really wanna party me?
In Squad we trust! Puffing on stuff, eyes low than..hungs
They don't with us cuz they know that we not the ones
Boy, we got them guns, get a holing out from none
Yo, it's young money, my ni**a, you know we to bust
And everybody armed, more than Octopus
my name on my cups, so ni**a know not to touch
Every time I bust a rhyme, another one the dust
Tunechi!