Luyện nghe bài hát Gold

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

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

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

No is rough enough
There is no clip that's full
I can't fold, I need gold, I re-up and
must be sold to you

Fiends coming fast enough
There is no cut that's enough
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
Product be sold to you

It's mandatory I supply all my troops with mega firearms
Big apes and spread 'em out crops on a farm
To get cream, sometimes they repaint the
Like the last episode on gates, and other
Plant bombs till the smoke from the blast becomes
And flows through, all they knew, gun sick
His Glock clicks like high-heeled on parquet 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 down airports and extort
import, catching ten percent of what the fiends snort
Up in the ski resorts, up in
They move keys and had the making drops on snowmobiles
The plan was to expand, catch seven figures, triggers
And live large and bigger my nigga
Who promised his a mansion with mad room
She died and he still put a grand in her tomb
Open wounds, he hid behind closed
And still organized his crime and wars

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

No is rough enough
There is no clips full enough
I can't fold, I gold, I re-up and reload
Product be sold to you

no cuffs that's tight enough
There is no niggas that's with us
I can't fold, I need gold, I and reload
must be sold to you