Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

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

(Lil Wayne)

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

(Jae Millz)

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

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
Crank up the
the song from a Stove-Top
Its licking hot
His pitch cause the nigga flop
My shit hit, like the was soft
Niggas balled
She dropped drawers she poppin off
Her pussy guard, but, I dont stop at all
I in the car, like fuck the fucking law
I bet gone, who wanna make it done
The rocky that we up on
on em like hay in the barn
Hey they say money talks
And, man you speak at all
You shop at
My style two thumbs up, using analogues
I wreck shit, for the bitch
Jesus as my witness, say
I bore you flame flicker
I pictures
Tyga skin aint