Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama me to Sam Goody's
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took shit home
That shit was wack like a
Don't fuck Game

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
They're my

I went down one of Bodaga shits right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Lloyd and Young Buck CD
Took that home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was bout to be on some radio Raheim
Man that shit sound like some Vanessa '88
I Olivia cute but they say that bitch a man
So this Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!

300 and Runnin
Just loan me ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
What you Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the
Labels signing things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding
And I you black out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by side, no matter who comes strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, then pop cristal wit
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
*****z running mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, your is boring
Take shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help with rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
you lied about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel your just a lil bit
*****z only your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killa shit
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop acting before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck friends now I'm into throwing slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if don't get it
Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
Came in the and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So can put me in the squad car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
'cause I'm a cold when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the thing I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they callin all
'cause they heard what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes
Muthafucka show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your flow
Then he made you temporary for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm out of breath, like I just beat boxed
Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga Reebocks
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you want
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A king in the making, and the is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone