Luyện nghe bài hát Wu-Blood Kin

Young Gods when you shout them you kill sons
Can't get into the pen for one
I rather be rich, lay back and spark shit
now son of being hit by a bullet

Yo, the garden of redemption, half of my clan is in
For being men, never listening
Like Sonny on Riker's pisten, 25 was no surprise
He shot 3 left one paralyzed

With bloody palms, them niggas tried and raped his
Start at his chest
went to his charms on Saint Nicks, call that branch
The weed spot kid, 2 niggas dead, history, a pyramid

He mailed the cleaves to an off the Florida Keys
Bent out, had a 3 story penthouse
450 C on
Young fakes made the move on the New York

Extraordinary he flipped his man to see the bury
Check the sub though, heat key Joe
Got a kid out in Florida on the low
a Benz-O, sips O-O and mo'

He his smoke out the store, Boe kicked in the door
Bran was in the gamblin' with 2 pounds of green on the table
My escaped out with guns stable
Of course, he up sniffing white whores

The German's in his laboratory the task force
it too hot we self cock the full five
First sneaky hit the back a shell through his eye
He screamed, the rest of his team
Got to death like a 88 jeans

Young Gods when you shout them guns you sons
get into the pen for murder one
I rather be rich, lay back and spark that
now son of being hit by a bullet

Nigga shut the fuck up and drown the in the pool
your cool feds be knocking on the door soon
Said they heard about cat you murdered the boom boom
You shoulda swooped on 'em stayed Wake do 'em on him

Jet skied on 'em then around corner on 'em
4 o'clock in the morning, I the ski mask on 'em
My man's on the corner when I plant it on 'em
357 nosing on 'em
Some that was bugging for him you know 'em

bitches problem still be holding
20, 25 years on 'em they
Now with the shit with the twelve burner to be on it
12 O'Clock is on it Darkman on it and niggas don't it

Young Gods when you shout them guns you kill
Can't get into the pen for one
I rather be rich, lay back and spark shit
now son of being hit by a bullet

Young Gods you shout them guns you kill sons
Can't get into the pen for one
I rather be rich, lay back and that shit
Killed now son of being hit by a