Luyện nghe bài hát Yapp City

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

[Ghostface
Nobody move, get hurt
This is a stick up, I want y'all to lift 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, the juks
Stop shaking, you making me nervous, I know that you
The is that sticking out from under ya foot?
Move, turn ya head around, nigga, you not look
Stacks, you hiding from Tone? I'll shake, ya bones
You killed him! Nah, hit him the back of the fucking chrome
In the dark, yo, I do alone
That's the reason why I don't hands, in case I gave you a phone
That's a buck fifty, hickey, when I strike 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 you coming with me
nigga, eat through ya chest like some fucking whiskey

[Chorus: Childs]
BOY! Gut him a pig in the dark
Or auction off ya bitch body
BOY! a guard dog, disarm the alarm devices
ya head in vicegrips (yeah)
BOY! Or stick a hot blade his heart
Get to niggaz for the right prices
BOY! Yeah, is priceless.. GET 'EM!

God]
Aiyo, I post up, the shotti
Black mags in lobbies, with red dots, to detach the
If you a boss, why ya is sloppy?
This a Staten Island gang, ock, not no Ave could stop me
I'm on the road, not no robbery
When it come to dough, it over flow like paper bag tsunamis
I take shit, lumberjacks and
Niggaz out bombs like Culpepper, so I pass behind 'em
My black glove, mask, requirements
Sent the order to Trife Dies', and he gon' send 'em fast, they in
These cowards clash our lion's den
That forty-four mag'll ya aves and the cav you flying in
We hoping out like Iron Men
It's hard to believe how leave with no bag supplying sense
Empty cuz my staff is
Canine with felonies duck fast when firing

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