Luyện nghe bài hát Whutcha Want?

I gets banned if I do banned if I don't
So I will and sometimes I won't
Puff mad stick a forty down the back
Sit fat and and plan my attack
Not the one to test I mad finesse
My buddha was blessed one bird in the
with my peeps steady bouncing in jeeps
On the New York hittin urban concrete
I'm the man untestable, with the flow
celo, pop the top off the forty ounce bottle
I'm not the one to follow, I'm not the model
Hollow in my clips money grip and my Glock
Only spits when I to the bullshit
So give me room to and get up off DEEZ
And save the confessions for
Plus I don't to hear no sorrow
Eff it, the sun will still come out
as I'm breathing, needing, even like Steven
Achieving, gettin cheese and
Representin lovely, Boogie Down major
the project flavor, I made ya, daze ya
My behavior is mad ill if you
You what I want

(Whutcha want Nine?) Fat for my rides
(So want Nine?) Mad clips for my nines
(So want 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 like a jungle makes me wonder my eel is
Hits the skips the dog shit complete in my cipher
Temper like Rowdy Rowdy Piper, hyper a viper
I'ma if I got it goin for the jugular
Stretch you like a
Stoppah, stoppah, but you can't me
Just clock me, just watch me up the spot G
Came a long way from, in the day
We did it for no pay, rhymin hit the hay and
Sleep, wake up, another rhyme
Hit the park after dark drop the one time
That's when shit was real, no no baloney
Just the homemade mics and wheels of
Backup the roof, amp plugged in the street light
Everything right, jam over a fight
to the lab I grab my pen and pad
Raw lyrics a fleuredoscad
Had no dinero, enough get fo' chicken wings and
A forty a nickel bag to get nice
And now I might make a million, and son
It makes the heart pump, you what I want

(Whutcha Nine?) Fat beats for my rides
(So whutcha Nine?) Mad clips for my nines
(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 Glock non-stop
Remote boombox lampin on my dresser
The God ain't no lesser as the comes to test ya
Hundred pound around the neck, daily
Nuff treasons nuff reasons like Philip
Can't get of that funky stuff
Rhymin astronomical, original, is phenomenal
up the ghetto put the pedal to the metal
Speed like Racer you like a wack rhyme and erase ya
off the pape I roll a big fat spliff
Four-fifth on the hip, Heineken in the shit I'm ready
Get the keys for the jeep, let's
Cruise avenues, get brews and sing the blues with the
Funkmaster Flex cassette in the
I'm in I move my neck while Son gets wreck
Oh a feeling, I'm on the wheels of steel and
I snatch up skins for some sexual healing
Erything's copasctetic, groovy hip-hop moves me
me, I'm letting off like an uzi
But first a doozy and bruise me
Now I'm choosy I start to freak it like a floozy
I wanna get big get paid true
You know what I

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