Luyện nghe bài hát 90059

Took my mind on road, you too
I my mind on this road, way through
I take your on this road, you do
I took my on this road, way through

I don't know why keep fucking with me
These streets make it so hard to
and my lows
Look ways, where I'm supposed to go
Ah, shit, get out my

The stench from the smoke could smell so
in the alley, nearly slumped over
Demons in eyes, glassy, no Folgers
Wake up sober, you for a cold one
Snotty nosed rascals, big ratchet
Give it up slowly, click, clack, it's
Something like Velcro, attached to corners
Hood rats plotting, for the blue cheese
All for the Gram, grams and a new
All they gotta spend expands, and loose knees
taking chances, tip-toeing with two P's
No a simp, weak or strong they do bleed
Candle light vigils, closure if they do
Bullets have a name defined by calibers
Concrete jungle, beware of different
Gotta have the stomach for dookie bags and
Play your cards right or be off them calendars

I don't why niggas keep fucking with me
These streets it so hard to breathe
Highs and my
Look both ways, I'm supposed to go
Ah, shit, get out my

These are murky, crocodiles they lurking
Murder rate merging, up and virgins
Guess you gotta street versions of a surgeon
Keep beat bursting, closing down all curtains
When shit don't go right, gotta question your
Denim with them serpents coming to surface
EBT, balance, worthless
You either in limousines or them hearses
Too bad blood, another problem emerges
You started the you motherfucking deserved it
Politicking, a lot of liquor, be the answer
They Marlboro, trying to them, they be the cancer
Gotta get that loose change, you kick a nigga brain
Like your name Liu Kang, that be the
Stop, look, listen, that's the to live by
Know you gotta stake your claim, a rib-eye
90059, nigga, why

I don't know why niggas keep with me
These streets make it so to breathe
and my lows
Look ways, where I'm supposed to go
Ah, shit, get out my

A force from the rap game my nigga, this a circus
no Ringling Brothers, no Barnum and Bailey
Clowned ass niggas get marked out daily, out lately
Bitch niggas get hat brought to them, you don't communicate
Well hands and the gat to you, what's the convo?
Don't fast, you end up getting a combo
Think situations is calm, they bomb though
Sleeping in the bando, it's either death or
Something you never for, dreaming about Lambos
Wake up shivering, pillow to a lamppost
Straight up out the motherfuckin' crockpot it's
One stops leave you dope, socks is not boxed
No rats, re-rock that got them all weight
Got all they teeth shot but got a spot
Gotta call up Dr. Dre for the Detox
All of this in one zip code, the streets hot

I don't know why niggas keep fucking me
These streets it so hard to breathe
and my lows
Look both ways, where I'm to go
Ah, shit, get out my