Luyện nghe bài hát Yeah!

[Andre
Man, I'ma run my mouth and get your account
Bring my benz out in the of a drought
I blow lye its "God Bless Buddha"
It's of like the feelin' runnin' with a known shooter
Baby spit it to the limit, run into the abyss
You know its god number 7 on your top ten
Its kamikaze, into the eyes of a pisces
and Las Vegas talkin' shit is you might find me
Fillmo' down the nose to the toes
Get your cell phone you can picture pose
Picture all the clothes, all the hoes
Picture the perfection when your money grows
You crocodile style, I sport gators
They might bite, so fresh with the flavor
Got Khan? number one sign
Steak, potatoes, garlic and some prawns!

[Chorus: Messy (Andre Nickatina)]
(YEEEAAH) San baby
Fillmo' niggas bring back the 80's, YEEEAAH
(Yeah money is the
and run town like its Grand Theft Auto, Chicka-kahnn)
Wally on my hip, good weed in my
niggas in the whip, YEEEAAH
(Your not dealin with
When you try to kick hop, your body shut down)

Marv]
Yeah, nigga I'ma mothafuckin'
for breakfast, eat brunch by noon
24 Davins, only the lip
The rest of the women, color as the whip
out and crack a nigga shit wide open
Jump back in the with the barrel still smokin
Fillmore nigga, bitch break bread
I want no pussy, I don't want no head
But you can get a sack of purple stuff
Some gin and a bag of that Duff
I'ma pimp, trapped in a gangsta's
I'm on dope and fuck around and hurt somebody
On tuesday and thursday the ghost up
Then everybody runs, fuck you up
I'ma ass nigga, man I ain't gon' lie
I wanna sell dope, smoke weed and get high, you BITCH

[Chorus: Marv (Andre Nickatina)]
(YEEEAAH) San Francisco
Fillmo' niggas bring back the 80's, YEEEAAH
(Yeah is the motto
and run around town its Grand Theft Auto, Chicka-kahnn)
Wally on my hip, weed in my mouth
niggas in the whip, YEEEAAH
(Your not dealin with
When you try to kick hop, watch your body down)

Nickatina]
You mistake me for Doug E. Fresh, the way I sport ballies
With my Slick Rick talk and my Rick walk
I wear rings like the planet Saturn
The money's movin' baby then your is the pattern
You know I hide out like witness protection
Some people to stare like a model car collection
You it's like: twenty G's in a Jordan briefcase
My hood up off the word "freebase"
Man the soul of a grammy runs through my body
My bottom ho cries, 'cause I never say I her
It's a cold word, why I p-p-p-party
My lawyer is a sneaky motherfucker, naughty
hot lies, I hit Popeye's for hot fries
A rap cat, talkin' 'til the sun rise
What's your astrology, and your
I talk a bit to get you to follow me
I'm like the quality, you like the
Fillmore born and ain't no

[Messy
San baby
Fillmo' niggas try'na bring back the 80's,
Wally on my hip, good weed in my
Gangsta niggas in the whip,