Luyện nghe bài hát Whutcha Want?

I gets banned if I do gets if I don't
So sometimes I will and sometimes I
Puff mad crack a forty down the back
Sit fat and and plan my attack
Not the one to test I posess mad
My was blessed one bird in the nest
with my peeps steady bouncing in jeeps
On the New York streets urban concrete
I'm the man untestable, with the flow
Fo'-fifty-fix celo, pop the top off the ounce bottle
I'm not the one to follow, I'm not the role
Hollow tips in my clips money grip and my
Only spits when I react to the
So give me room to breathe and get up off
And save the confessions for
Plus I don't need to no sorrow
Eff it, the sun will come out tomorrow
Long as I'm breathing, needing, even like
Achieving, gettin some and
Representin lovely, Boogie Bronx major
the project flavor, I made ya, daze ya
My is mad ill if you front
You know what I

(Whutcha want Nine?) Fat beats for my
(So whutcha Nine?) Mad clips for my nines
(So whutcha Nine?) A ill posse
And my up in lights, N-I-N-E

I'ma let you know how I on the real
I pack steel it's a jungle makes me wonder where my eel is
Hits the bricks skips the dog shit complete in my
Temper like Rowdy Rowdy Piper, like a viper
I'ma if I got it goin for the jugular
Stretch you like a
Stoppah, stoppah, but you stop me
Just me, just watch me blow up the spot G
Came a way from, back in the day
We did it for no pay, just hit the hay and
Sleep, up, write another rhyme
Hit the park after drop the beat one time
when shit was real, no phonies no baloney
Just the homemade and wheels of steel
Backup from the roof, amp in the street light
right, jam over a street fight
Back to the lab I my pen and pad
Raw make a fleuredoscad
Had no dinero, enough get fo' chicken wings and
A forty ounce a nickel bag to get
And now I might a million, and still son
It makes the heart pump, you know what I

(Whutcha want Nine?) Fat for my rides
(So whutcha Nine?) Mad clips for my nines
(So want Nine?) A ill posse
And my up in lights, N-I-N-E

Be Elmer J. Fudd with the mansion and the yacht
Brand new Glock hip-hop
control boombox lampin on my dresser
The God ain't no lesser as the pressure comes to ya
Hundred pound around the neck, daily
Nuff treasons nuff reasons like Philip
Can't get enough of that stuff
Rhymin astronomical, original, is phenomenal
Heat up the ghetto put the to the metal
like Racer treat you like a wack rhyme and erase ya
Right off the pape I roll a big fat
Four-fifth on the hip, Heineken in the grip I'm ready
Get the keys for the jeep, let's
Cruise avenues, get some brews and sing the with the
Funkmaster Flex cassette in the
I'm in effect I my neck while Son gets wreck
Oh a feeling, I'm on the wheels of steel and
I snatch up some skins for some healing
Erything's kosher copasctetic, groovy hip-hop me
Soothes me, I'm off like an uzi
But first steps a and bruise me
Now I'm choosy I start to freak it like a floozy
I wanna get big get paid true
You what I want

(Whutcha Nine?) Fat beats for my rides
(So want Nine?) Mad clips for my nines
(So want Nine?) A ill posse
And my name up in lights,