Luyện nghe bài hát Wu-Blood Kin

Young Gods when you 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

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

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

He mailed the cleaves to an island off the Keys
Bent out, Dunn had a 3 penthouse
450 C on
Young fakes made the on the New York street

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

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

The in his laboratory with the task force
it too hot we self cock the full five
First sneaky hit the back caught a through his eye
He screamed, the rest of his police
Got ripped to death like a 88

Young Gods when you shout them 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

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

Jet skied on 'em then flew corner on 'em
4 o'clock in the morning, I threw the ski on 'em
My little man's on the corner when I it on 'em
357 slug on 'em
Some bitches that was bugging for him you 'em

Some bitches problem be holding
20, 25 on 'em they growing
Now back with the shit with the twelve to be on it
12 O'Clock is on it on it and niggas don't want it

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