Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

A-yo shorty, yo that's my
Oh, y'all smelling y'all piss now y'all think gold
Yo anybody get caught
Over here, I'm returning 'em, my word they getting blasted
Anything 220 to 140, that's mine
Y'all need to step the off
Y'all ain't crazy for real

Yo, the ain't coming fast enough
There is no cut pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
Product be sold to you

I'm down in the back streets, in the heart of Medina
About to set off something more than a misdemeanor
Under the subway, for the train to make noise
So I can a nigga and his boys,for what?
He pushed up on the block and made the sales drop
Like the crash in the Dow Jones
I had a connect to cross-sales, to more mill's
Than ho-bitches got birth pills
I'm in the setting up a deal over blunt fire
Bum nigga on the bench, they had him wired
Peeped my convo, the address of my
And how I changed a nigga to John Doe
And we set up camp, we got vamped
Put the stake through his heart, I ripped his fangs apart
Snake got on the set like Brandon Lee
Blown out the like Pan Am Flight 103
He got swung on, his lungs was
A kingpin castled with his rook and lost a pawn
A regular on the block played lookout
For playing predator with a Glock, he should have out

No is rough enough
is no clip that's full enough
I fold, I need gold, I re-up and reload
Product must be to you

Fiends ain't coming enough
is no cut that's pure enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product must be to you

It's that I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out crops on a farm
To get cream, they repaint the scene
Like the last episode on gates, and other
Plant till the smoke from the blast becomes thick
And through, all they knew, he's gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled shoes on floors
Mad sick, stand on hills and invade
Filthy foul, shovelling dirt, he's out to
For instance, chop off hands, attack
His idols would lock airports and extort
Some import, catching ten percent of the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
move keys and had the skis making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, seven figures, release triggers
And large and bigger than my nigga
Who promised his a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a grand in her tomb
wounds, he hid behind closed doors
And still organized his crime and wars

Fiends ain't fast enough
There is no cut that's pure
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
Product be sold to you

No neighborhood is rough
There is no clips that's full
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
must be sold to you

There's no that's tight enough
There is no niggas that's with us
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
Product be sold to you