Luyện nghe bài hát X-Caliba

[Chorus: Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker kept for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the of his neck left
And you know nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the
Wit the windows up, must had gin in the cup
'cause I'm swervin in the fast-lane be spinnin em up
(X-caliba *echo*)

[Verse 1: Brotha Hung]
It all started I twisted the lid of the Olde E
And see E-A-R-double-O-E... ... ... (??)
my motherfuckering siccmade jacket at
'cause that's the one I could use
When I saw you at the war yeah when I lifted you out shoes
It was the pressure from the twenty gage(the gage)
Felt like it could split your chest whide wit it
Well nigga you should when I'm round talkin shit
Bout the nigga my kin-folks
Should've the deal while you was givin out that info...
...mation, I'll be of that Parry
When I hit em all up, em all up, kill em all up, fill em all up
deal, dig em' a ditch, then take they grip
Put em in the back of the Cadillac show em how my gonna act
My tactics is
the whole town hella smokey
like band that steppin over dead people
like that, and you wouldn't know it 'cause I'ma cool ass mufucca
Done delt witt a of succas
as I wait for the city to heat up a Hot Pepper
Gotta load fulla Evian
and a trunck fulla FO take no's and I let go
you at yo show slippin
Hoes trippin, rows in the street after I heat my heat
off the hook with this siccmade shit, straight nigga
Fuck it, pass me the straight lace liquor to the nigga
Off the Burger and Kool-Aid and O 8
on the liver still make me kill a nigga
Split you head like a
Die natural!
Five at dome send em home in a pinebox
I mean Lift you out sox
Pay to the Clock
Its like pass a niggas ass lay em in the grass take suitcase fulla cash and mash
16 in the crumble the urb roll a sliff bout to whatch you brain split in half
Bloody bath watter, infried nigga nuts and bones locaded at home I him name is Tyrone
But you know...

[Chorus: Brotha Lynch
That motherfucker sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his neck
And you don't nuthin but the killa gotta away
Before 4.30 in the I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the up, must have had gin in the cup
'cause I'm in the fast-lane gotta be spinnin em up
(X-caliba *echo*)

2: Brotha Lynch Hung]
You can call me black Huseain
Pump St Idees through my vein ass
You can see me on the of the street
Man remembered by the ((opposet)) nigga that the city
Get ready for some pretty if you sicc Frank Nitty
Sucked blood my momas tittie - instead of milk
Played muzicc in my tape deck - instead of Silkk
End up one of them motherfuckers
So fuck them hoes, they like
havin killin niggas like gots to go
up at 3 am - got high til seven
Jumped in my what you ma call it headin heaven, whit my
50 sacc of some shit, that'll you get there
About 11:30 with T-shirt dirty,
I'm worthy strapped like as ventured in this faulty game
In a mainframe, that I n bucked away, then hit the plane
15 guts on a beam scale nigga
acual contact from the that I hale nigga

[Chorus: Lynch Hung]
That motherfucker sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his the back of his neck left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa away
Before 4.30 in the morning I'm in the 6-Tre
Wit the up, must have had gin in the cup
'cause I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be em up
(X-caliba *echo*)

3: Brotha Lynch Hung]
They got this twisted up
And from the sound of the barrle I got hella motherfuckers up
What I do about these fuckin fleas?
Give em all they want and put they seeds in weed
a way out this nigga I know you got me in file
But I got you on scanner so anotha way (anotha way)
me it was (?Coda steady?)
But I you slippin like pimpin
and bankin like (?Trail Leonard?)
Hit your mind workin these
tripp time get's deepa as you meat the reapa
in the form of a man double M 24 5 got your leaking I'm peakin
That's why these nigga wanna rip me
I'm squeeky and what you ma want call it
witta .45 in my pocket and I'm a alcoholic
Like P-Folks I had to make it
Sacramentos wanted I gotta keep packin, 'cause of that
My favorite cousin go four years
And when his little brotha died he me no tears
your point is get deep as the ocean
Take a shiesty niggas blood and rub it on lotion
It was like: once apon a time a time ago
I was sticken 9 milis in a hole
Get of the Ol 8 old Murda moe i gotta go to a spot
when they don't know I'm the nigga given up my info

Brotha Lynch Hung]
That kept sniffin for goods
Put the plastic in his mouth the back of his left
And you don't know nuthin but the killa gotta
4.30 in the morning I'm gone in the 6-Tre
Wit the up, must have had gin in the cup
'cause I'm swervin in the fast-lane gotta be em up
(X-caliba *echo*)