Luyện nghe bài hát Yapp City

[Intro: Killah]
[church bell
Yeah, yeah, we want all shit, we'll take all that shit
up on 'im right, feel me?
Soon as he turn around, just yapp nigga
I got everything,
They ain't gotta do nothing, but just search bitches
go...

[Ghostface
move, nobody get hurt
This is a stick up, I want y'all to y'all skirts
I mean shirts, ya hoodies off, jackets and watches
Before you put ya hands on the wall, empty ya
Fix ya face, this a robbery, nigga, respect the
Stop shaking, you making me nervous, I know that you
The is that sticking out from under ya foot?
Move, ya head around, nigga, you better not look
Stacks, you hiding Tone? I'll shake, rattle ya bones
You killed him! Nah, hit him with the back of the chrome
In the dark, yo, I do alone
That's the reason why I shake hands, in case I gave you a phone
That's a buck fifty, long hickey, when I I do it quickly
Creep up on my swiftly, make it hard for you to stick me
Cuz if we shoot it out, cuz if I die tonight you with me
nigga, eat through ya chest like some fucking whiskey

[Chorus: Solomon
BOY! Gut him like a pig in the
Or auction off ya bitch body
BOY! Poison a guard dog, disarm the alarm
Throw ya in vicegrips (yeah)
BOY! Or stick a hot blade through his
Get to sticking niggaz for the right
BOY! Yeah, is priceless.. GET 'EM!

[Sun
Aiyo, I up, packed the shotti
Black mags in lobbies, with red dots, to detach the
If you a boss, why ya cash is
This a Staten burglar gang, ock, not no Ave could stop me
I'm on the road, not no massive
When it to that dough, it over flow like paper bag tsunamis
I shit, lumberjacks and Tommy's
Niggaz passing out like Culpepper, so I pass behind 'em
My black glove, black mask,
Sent the order to Trife Dies', and he gon' send 'em fast, they in
These cowards clash our lion's den
forty-four mag'll twist ya aves and the cav you flying in
We hoping out like Iron Men
It's hard to how niggaz leave with no bag supplying sense
cuz my staff is hiring
Canine dogs felonies duck fast when firing

[Trife Da
Aiyo, we arms like a octopus
Shorty's with the mac inside her pocket book
Blowing all of kush
Dark tints on the V so the D's can't spot the
Just throw ya hands in the sky, don't try to stop the
Face down, lay on the ground, no sudden
Yo, then, off his Timbs and get the work out his shoes
Rip off the pockets out his shoes, make he come out his used
I hear sirens, plus the cameras is watching, it's to move
If you lolly-gagging, word to mama, I'll bag 'im
Leave his frame riddled with holes, looking Gotti had 'im
Bragging, juked, in the wagon,
We slid a few down, this kid was frozen
With so we decided to yapp 'im
I put the in his mouth, said "You don't want the action
These ain't E pills, nigga, these is fuckin
Bean, blast 'im, Homo' get his girl for his and
Yo, E, go stop the whip, 'bout to witness a slashing" (BOY!)