Luyện nghe bài hát Whutcha Want?

I gets banned if I do gets banned if I
So sometimes I and sometimes I won't
Puff mad stick crack a forty down the
Sit fat and and plan my attack
Not the one to test I posess mad
My buddha was one bird in the nest
Chills with my peeps steady in jeeps
On the New streets hittin 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 model
tips in my clips money grip and my Glock
Only when I react to the bullshit
So give me room to and get up off DEEZ
And the confessions for JEESuz
Plus I don't need to no sorrow
Eff it, the sun will still out tomorrow
Long as I'm breathing, needing, like Steven
Achieving, gettin some and
Representin lovely, Boogie Bronx major
With the project flavor, I ya, daze ya
My behavior is mad ill if you
You know what I

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

I'ma let you know how I on the real
I pack steel it's like a jungle me wonder where my eel is
Hits the bricks the dog shit complete in my cipher
Temper like Rowdy Piper, hyper like a viper
strike if I got it goin for the jugular
Stretch you a copper
Stoppah, stoppah, but you can't me
Just clock me, watch me blow up the spot G
a long way from, back in the day
We did it for no pay, just hit the hay and
Sleep, wake up, another rhyme
Hit the after dark drop the beat one time
That's when was real, no phonies no baloney
Just the homemade mics and of steel
Backup the roof, amp plugged 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' wings and rice
A forty a nickel bag to get nice
And now I make a million, and still son
It makes the heart pump, you know what I

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

Be like J. Fudd with the mansion and the yacht
Brand new non-stop hip-hop
Remote control lampin on my dresser
The God ain't no lesser as the comes to test ya
Hundred pound weight the neck, daily
Nuff treasons nuff reasons like Philip
Can't get enough of funky stuff
astronomical, original, shit is phenomenal
Heat up the ghetto put the to the metal
Speed 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
avenues, get some brews and sing the blues with the
Funkmaster Flex cassette in the
I'm in effect I move my neck while Son gets
Oh what a feeling, I'm on the wheels of and
I snatch up some skins for some sexual
kosher copasctetic, groovy hip-hop moves me
Soothes me, I'm letting off an uzi
But first a doozy and bruise me
Now I'm choosy before I 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,