Luyện nghe bài hát Future

I am the streets, the
I introduce you to Ace Hood, Meek
Big Sean, Wale, Vado, the future
They gettin' money, they makin' hit records, hustlin'

Okay now Khaled told me kill 'em, he told me kill 'em
for the Beamer, Kudos for the dealer
Murder, bet I it, Kudos to the killer
sittin' crooked, teeth on Reggie Miller
I'm a beast, see me in your sleep
Nightmare on any street, swear I mark any beat
Spread this to the industry, lyrics like a chopper
Flow right through your fitted T, pull this through chemistry
Hottest nigga 'round, they greatness is my tendency
No thing as sympathy, more money, my remedy
Pockets on, heavy D, bitch I'm hot, degree
I drive? Owned by me, wrists and neck, anti-freeze
Can it be? I'm who you to be'
Last of a breed, I'm Siamese
Twin shooter nigga like a 7B
Big dog, get it, you still on your
Yeah, fly nigga with some swag
faces keep my money in the body bag
And the G-U-T-T-A, in the whip and I gotta get paid
Fuck them bitches, ain't to get laid
Walk in my house you can meet my
And you give a damn you can that Lac
Push that Benz on, that 'Lade, hop to the whip
No top on mine, hear a nigga hate, man fuck guys
Real nigga shit, tell no lie
Private plane, my seat recline, top 10 charts, where I
Got me a ?

We the muthafuckin best, word to my
Ridin' presidential, got me feeling Obama
all I want is change
And my they wanted the same
I wanted the money and the fame
I into something they never became
Through all the rain, I my flame
And I kept burning and its my and
Real my hood confirm it
Now it's 6 2's on closed
And that Maybach, let me em way back
When I was starving that was
Nigga where that at?
all your artists
And I, I, I, I can feel love,
But I that hate
When I got that ? I feel so safe
I put it to mug, you ain't gon' wake
When that gon' fly
Got a kick, but it ain't no tired
Niggas murder, but they ain't gon ride
Now we hard like I ain't gonna die
Mill!

Do it! OK
Smoke I got no lungs
Got her going down, no
I it "speaking tongues"
Do it! Do it!
Now you my language
From where they twist and talk they fingers
Man but ain't no sign language
out of the ashes
This a Detroit fucking classic when MM got the masses
Trick Trick got them
Bitch I'm from the Motor,
Yeah that motor be the bitch,
call it Motor City
'Cause most likely to crash (fuck it)
thing I got a chauffeur
Going No sir!
Bitch I'm the rap stylist,
'Cause I gave the rap style bitch
But I shine, ain't no niggas over Sean
Toll rollin by the quarter so I we're going overtime.
'Til we're Dumb high, dumb
Westside, bitch I run
I'm rolling around in my old school, I like the alumni
Fucking hoes, no attached
So don't ask me why they out
I'm like Jordan to you
I even stick my tongue out
She and wobble, bobbled
Then on my throttle
Bitch, I make you my baby
And even buy you a
Yo don't ask how the top feel?
When you keep em' beside you
My pockets got on paper
shit just look like a novel boy
100 worth of ice on me now
But it don't feel as good
As grandma she's proud

Forever dedicated, Maybach genius
Some they close to seeing me
Tell em they to Stevie
You poser niggas ain't to be here
We believe ya.
Double MG'er, we put a wreath on careers
We the best,
No need to stress,
Know a lot of artists
But I got the best
Multiple colors, my mind's more productive than
the winner, he think he really
Nelson
fire though.
One time for the 305,
hydro make me tired, yo
My be so Tai Bo!
My balance be so tight
hard to find Quick Tri-Flow
Get rough With me, that Night
Hoes for me, I maestro, shit
white whip sit
Like a wrist slit
Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write this
Nigga and right this minute, they say I'm hard
My driver's out of world, you playing bumper cars.
You under-cards
You should be
All you is Reggie, I'm in the telly bunch of noise
Who gon' me that I ain't going or I ain't flowin'
Folarin, you see them puters
That was my

The towers fell, turning to Ground
Kids didn't like Reggie
Nicki their hero
As I play Rothstein, Corleone like Rob De
Been through it but though
Don't move with the
pimpin' the toast like let's win
Penthouses on and 4th, pipes and Mac 6
While me in a Maserati bricking his best
When I die, tell them to turn my coffin to stretch rims on it
My man's on, see him, we stomp him out
His mouth, our on it
Always smoking a ounce, a mountain, no on it
Spins on it, you no clout, the Benz on it
What the fiends
Few roaches, you need spray, on tours, eat
Making all your feet sprayed
Get the through, peel through SRT-8 truck on, seats gray
Drop tops like release dates,