Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

Yeah, Ok Im leanin to the left, fla-flag in my right
Star Treck fly, unidentified objects
Extraterrestrial Im all my decimals
Retarded in the booth, they say I got a flow
than your average, you rappers is ass backwards
Gudda spit crack, and you niggas is crack
The simple
You cut the check and I rake in the green, like Im the grass in
Pretty damn near feint when they passin
Call my whip Martin but the first name
head niggas get mashed when Im spazzin
Think you fucking with me put your in
Nah I it
I was and reckless when Pete say he was about it
You niggas is Ducks, Howards,
Kill the competition and shower niggas with
This rap shit is
Gudda, Bitch!

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, Uptown in it
Hollygrove menace
Black clothes, tennis
semi,
Ive never sat in
That offend me
Try Maybach or
Bitch I got stacks,
Paychecks on
And I want payback
And I dont play that
I kill on
And you dont do shit but get all day
Put some on my bullets now they runnin your way
YM Mula, Young Money all day
Where the so sweet, like honey on yay
Which one of yall say, you want drama Im
I blitz your ass, like a muthaficking
of paychecks, with a whole bunch of commas
Still wear red, a old 49er
shittin on ya, dump the whole toilet on ya
Wee-Weezy F Baby bitch, I'm hotter than
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

aint make me to make homies
She made me to history
So doing thats my activity
Bulldozer boy, and the Target is the
Two things I Love in the World, Head and Victory
You doing it big and broke stop kidding me
Your whip up to date, and your hoes look like Mr. T
This is Misery, no Cathy
Come at me sideways, my money'll slap ya
Yeah, Im a Big Joker so you know I smash ace
Leave the club with ya girl, send her home with an ashy
Love is a gamble, but its my
that your the loser, I hope that she got aveno
I hope the game got life cause Ima kill it
And all you wack ass rap niggas with it
Im so harlem, eating but starving
Pockets fat as fuck, like all they do is eat
Millz!

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
up the notch
Burn the from a Stove-Top
Its finger hot
His pitch cause the nigga flop
My shit hit, the pitch was soft
cotton balled
She dropped cause she poppin off
Her pussy cross guard, but, I dont at all
I smash in the car, like the fucking law
I bet daddy gone, who make it done
The shit that we up on
on em like hay in the barn
Hey wait say money talks
And, man you speak at all
You shop at
My style two thumbs up, like analogues
I wreck shit, for the bitch
Jesus as my witness, say
I you niggas flame flicker
I pictures
Tyga skin drippin