Luyện nghe bài hát Daze Of Thunder

Im in '77 Glasshouse
green in
Rims wit da nice lips,

roll me
steamer
Got them bitches pressed I brung them to the cleaners
don't lie, you aint never seen him in person
You just about them tracks he be murking
Bout hoes I be working
one up for the pimp
Got a yellow bone bitch rolling weed, serving
You curly head Amanda, aint she from Atlanta
Condo on Peachtree, named Pamela
In love her body
Girl, dont sweat them little love
Thats where I put my at
When I you up to ram you
Ask your BFF about what happened she passed through
Barefoot by the
unraveled
Say the was amazing and the bed, life magical
your homegirl good and let that news get back to you
Now its you have to too, curiosity
Sprung that pussycat to the house me and I killed it
Suckers hate the jet life because they not allowed to it
Fool I'm dead serial, killer fucking
Nigga this is personal, you get no whiff of this
I this shit myself and Im a smoke it til the end of it
I burn it half way down and put a behind my ear
Either way a square saying he got high with me today
Frito-Lay
motorcycle trying see
exit I take off the interstate so they could follow
But I ain't tripping, I got it like in my pocket
And a clip next to my license confirm that I'm a pilot
Im stumbling da red carpet, laughing, spilling bottles
You stuck in your hotel suite, on you stylist
You get dressed without him, because you got no inner fly-dom
Showed up like the hoes at?
Fool, all at my room
that ass
Im a to that before I tell you at get in the bed and arch your back
Smooth rap, syrup, music, and Cognac
dope, surround sound, crack, all that
The sun top in a diamond
Though not on a Cadillac, because Im a driver
I all over the map, my home at the bottom
Winter hot like
, big chrome, rubber
Rust bucket, I 1500 on that motherfucker
Another 30 racks restoring that
40 say You got a bad bitch, better tuck her,

Bay love Mac Dre
on her way to get paper
Haters is mad we get and get rich, aint slowing down for nothing
George Kush the
Like "What do this do, it, here goes nothing."
Your is something, else
by himself, high, off radar, stealth
For the of the jets, until its nothing left
You aint got no gas, go over and siphon some of theirs
Game cold, air, though its fair
No choice for us to play, so you might as win, mane
They say it everything, but thats that loser talk
So ask them,