Luyện nghe bài hát Hillwood

[First
The is 7'0, October the fifth,
I done did my months now my life take a shift,
In the now, you better raised me good,
But instead I blaze in the hood,
I was three when my pops took a vacation,
Now I'm solo the revlation,
Gotta for a dope fiend to hit,
And I show no if u want some shit,
I'm as the sky, fishin' for fry,
Be a G till the I die, oh my,
Why would u test this mex in a Lex just banging
Tex, you know I'm gonna wreck this shit,
Along with any bitch who disrespect my clique,
Like a bit, I got the if a killa,
And them hoes out like a three wheela,
'cause I freaks my draulics, fuckin' in college,
Bitches swingin' on my it's so stylish, Model it,
Hold my dick like a 64', peace to all my mamas,
But really though, I'm a fool,
And G's can vouch that, up in the puttin'
on a mouse trap, and one day I'm gonna rise,
And up, till then I'm dealin' dope from sundown
To sunup.

Off the hills, of hillwood, Texas(x3)
You best not test mex in a Lex

[Second
As I through my hood it felt good,
All my homies my back with a gat in Hillwood,
Hustlin' is the hobby, if you will,
And all of those hoes really us on the Hill,
Be real if blood runs deep in the hood,
All the punished shoulda put a bunk in da wood,
All stood, all good, keep they bank if I take
What you got, but my I degrate,
You the way G's comin up with a mic,
I write what u like, it's my mothafucking life,
I never shife not to type, I am,
But if tryin to take my ends,
I be damn bam bam to man in the pen,
boys too young to get stung,
Come with the boys,
Hold the noise I show to precise to
Fend the skunk my blunt,
To be nice shoot hit killa,
Straight the eightball,
Pour a for the ones who took that great fall,
I keeps all my dead homies in my heart,
They got a start, and still we never part.

[Third
I remember December of 88', blue hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow three stones
My Chrome in the bushes, seven dirty jackin' up
Three bushes, my homie got a tryin' to race the
Van, got and fixin' to face the man,
In the gown with the wooden hammer,
Bamma, my nigga seven in the slammer,
Damma, old passin' time,
All my frends gone guess I'm in line,
Betta me a new way to hustle,
Six years in the and I still feel the struggle,
Smuggle weed the checkpoint,
Just another day on the job as I mob but the oink,
a joint on the way to the valley,
Now I'm comin' and they wanna search my Caddi,
It's a risk when you tryin to make that bank,
But them can't smell past my gas tank,
So I catch 59 to H-Town, arrive safely with my 38
Pounds, fresh the border, may I take your order,
You just them singled every five and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)