Luyện nghe bài hát Yolanda's House

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

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

May God strike me if he don't 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
what I get for slingin' in them projects

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

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

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

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

asthmatic and you laughin' son
I bump my toe on the just 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 family like 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 the cops tryin to lock you for?
Can't believe you blowin' the Lord

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

Can't it, it's a thug thing
And in the moment of
I'm interrupted by Raekwon

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

You still fuckin' shorty? I it
The big mouth broad that be yolkin' my out
Her little brother two bricks
You the nigga 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 shit, no, that Steve Rifkind style shit
Hit me with some talk, him in New York
robbed the Venezuelan niggas, stabbed his son with a fork

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