Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

My mama took me to Sam
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took that home
shit was wack like a motherfucker
Don't with Game

I like 50
He reminds me
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
my friends

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

[The
300 Bars and
Just loan me ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them niggaz toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take shots to back
Defending his yard, yeah standing his
I'm saying if you retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
you thought? Them was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I that he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't we pop
You sell but a GGG-u 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
hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I you black out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Cedar
So I got my hot tops make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to niggaz when Dre a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that is back
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
about when the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then the like Esko
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, is kinda foolish see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is
Take that shit off ??, go to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga, when you help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't make your beef mine
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 that
I knew from the beginning I trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
Gave 'em a hundred bars, ain't think I could do it
Came two hundred, nigga this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot summer
Both ?? in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any nigga, say my name motherfuck I'm
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods, Bloods get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
nigga bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For off niggaz on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for shit just a lil bit
Niggaz for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killer
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, never air max for the ??
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They stab you then ?? then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
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 tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake nigga, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he ain't the cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We tired of you talkin about who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
Nigga I'll that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching fitted

the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
So I build a on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
Niggaz hating on me, they want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to a mistake
So can put me in the SWAT car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive down way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
'cause I'm a nigga when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, call ??
'cause they heard about what on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50
Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is news, I it up like vomit
And I still shine like
kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's Aftermath, two feet in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the politican, Impala ??
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta
Dollar vision, blow a thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you ain't do that so motherfucker move back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody hats
We miss y'all, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know which hole to up, when the ?? clap
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you were on Tha Row
Juve left you for and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your flow
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want
Now motherfucker, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy decide to return, I remain 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 nigga nor a bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone...