Luyện nghe bài hát Yolanda's House

Yeah yo, I'm up, Nike's is scuffed
Still buggin' earlier around four, how I escaped the
The way I fell, cracked the of my watch
My man's chantin' me on like, "Run son, go up in the spot"

through bushes and backyards, neighbors is rattin' me out
Dogs is barkin', all you hear is the sirens
I'm to think and toss the iron
in my sweats got me runnin', funny, you think I'm lyin'

May God me if he don't like me, I'm tired and I'm out of breath
The weed got me paranoid, my heart's through my chest
Tryin' to focus up and make
That's what I get for slingin' in them

Next thing you know, I'm in bitch's crib chillin'
Told her my story and like this, I had her in the ceiling
Cookin' me fish sticks, hot side of them biscuits
While she doin' this, the still slidin' on lipstick

Now I got the fat stomach on, she a dutch
I'm playin' her pussy on the couch, I'm ready to fuck
Like, here miss lady wop, where you put the condom box?
She finished off the last one, oh shit, I hear the

Handcuffs and talkies, I her white Yorkie
Jettin' up the stairs, them pigs want revenge Porky's
So I slid, hid the wall, opened the door
Like, ooh, I seen my man, Meth in raw
So he up, balls out, hid in the closet
I'm laughin', he said "Yo Starks be quiet"

Now, let me put my drawers on, nigga kinda dope you on?
knocked before you came in the spot
Ghost you wrong bustin' in here on the shit
Got chick screamin', grabbin the sheets, tryin' to cover her tits

She's and you laughin' son
I bump my toe on the nightstand runnin', tryin' to grab the gun
Shit's man, you spazzin' dun
There comes a time in a man's life, he gotta his pack and run
You know we like Crack and Pun

But Mr. JFK, state your after that be one
Now can it be you hot lord?
You did some shit on the block that the cops tryin to lock you
Can't believe you the spot Lord

My is buggin', she trippin'
My dick keep slippin' out my boxer
Now I'm caught up in the drug
Niggas is callin' my horn, police is hittin' corner we on

Can't understand it, it's a thug
And in the of thought
I'm interrupted by Shallah

I my money Meth, gonna buy them hundred birds
Tell Tone, get at me, all them little clients work
He know we out, tell the kid meet me, matter of fact beep me
to mother, Lord, son he got me hurt

You still shorty? I knew it
The big mouth broad that be my balls out
Her little brother wanted two
You know the licks, a Maybach on twenty six
All he do is get money, hustle, he's a

He me foul shit, wild shit
That nigga wear a lot of loud shit, no, Steve Rifkind style shit
Hit me some other talk, him in New York
They robbed the Venezuelan niggas, his son with a fork

That was rooster's little niece, little nooses
Father's homeboy, the kid who gave us a boost
He gave them on the arm, said for us to be calm
And if some beef pop off, go ahead and the alarm, c'mon