Luyện nghe bài hát Y'all Can't Never Hurt Us

1: Mr. Mr. & (Boobonic)

Yo, I'm two of a brick, you two wit' me?
(I got two O's and I'm bringin' two wit' me)
Look, bullshit me, scoop and come get me
(Shit, I'll be there in ten unless the come hit me)
(I move like lightening, thats I was told)
we can't trust these niggas, keep it in codes
(we had a deal on the table ten years old)
was on Readyrock records, LP went
(we had 36 groups, but cooked up Nine)
managed 28 groups, what cooked was mines
wanna act fly, we forced to hit 'em up
(and we sold y'all a brick in code, so nigga what).

(Both)

Bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, (y'all can't never hurt
us)
you'll fuck my bitch, shoot at my whole click, look (y'all can't
us)
'cause we'll the Feds, take ya bitch, money long, we got locked we
the shit
bullets from the chrome, Feds tap my phone, (y'all can't never hurt
us)

2: (Mr. Mr.)

I through more bills than congress in D.C.
stacks so thick you you see 'em in 3-D
if I'm outta I phone home like E.T.
a CE, try CL fever
move coke, got more spots than Cheetahs
got heaters, scared to pop neither
you, them three, and him too
thats my procedure, fuck you do?
hustle for all C's, you even dig
chick, car, chips, cold ass
best man at that, I'm the rap Diggs
Wanted keep it lethal like Murtaugh and Briggs
a banana clip, I'll split your wig
I'm a gangsta, you to death ain't ya?
carry more weight on boats ten anchors
playboy like Hugh Hefner
I lied, and my bitch be out in one
cut coke open, it a tongue tester
face get it's good shit I'll bet ya
out the Coupe, walk by and wet ya.

3: (Boobonic)

Nosey ass niggas don't shit stink
'till I the glock and put two through his mink
you with your lip? well, keep your vest tight
357 Mag in a Jag
talk me to death, you mothafuckas is just gettin' by
while I'm rich bitch, just gettin'
you ain't on my level, you still skanks
while I'm at Vic's Secret photo with Tyra Banks
and I'm not lyin', my advice is tryin'
I bust big shit that'll stop firin'
me at the bar whether it's the clam, shark, or sky
I hate when rat niggas to lie
dog, you don't got
I never you in the drop nor with a bitch
you got your champaigne glass up, could tell you ain't never
poured
or bust a nigga the Four-Fifth
stop bullshit.

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