Luyện nghe bài hát Hillwood

[First
The year is 7'0, the fifth,
I did my nine months now my life take a shift,
In the now, you better raised me good,
But I blaze in the crazy hood,
I was three when my took a long vacation,
Now I'm facin' the revlation,
Gotta bolo for a fiend to hit,
And I show no feeny if u want shit,
I'm high as the sky, for fry,
Be a G the D-A-Y I die, oh my,
Why would u ever this mex in a Lex just banging
Outta Tex, you I'm gonna wreck this shit,
Along any other bitch who disrespect my clique,
a bit, I got the heart if a killa,
And them hoes come out like a wheela,
'cause I freaks my draulics, fuckin' in college,
Bitches on my nuts it's so stylish, Model it,
Hold my dick a 64', peace to all my baby's mamas,
But really though, I'm a fool,
And G's can vouch that, up in the puttin'
Cheese on a mouse trap, and one day I'm rise,
And come up, then I'm dealin' dope from sundown
To sunup.

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

[Second
As I crept through my 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 if your blood runs deep in the hood,
All the punished woulda put a bunk in da wood,
All stood, all good, keep fucking bank if I take
What you got, but my I degrate,
You hate the way G's comin up a mic,
I write what u like, 'cause it's my life,
I shife not to type, indeed I am,
But if they tryin to my ends,
I be damn bam bam to man in the pen,
Older too young to get stung,
with the holy boys,
Hold the noise I show boys to to
from the skunk my blunt,
To be nice shoot hit killa,
the mothafuckin eightball,
Pour a little for the ones who that great fall,
'cause I keeps all my dead in my heart,
They got a head start, and we never part.

[Third
I remember December of 88', blue hit the cut was
To late to break, Had to swallow stones tossed
My Chrome in the bushes, seven dirty pigs up
Three bushes, my homie got a case to race the
Van, got scooped and to face the man,
In the gown with the wooden hammer,
Bamma, give my seven in the slammer,
Damma, old mothafucka time,
All my frends gone I'm last in line,
find me a new way to hustle,
Six years in the game and I feel the struggle,
Smuggle across the checkpoint,
Just day on the job as I mob but the pigs oink,
Smoke a on the way to the valley,
Now I'm comin' back and they wanna my Caddi,
It's a when you tryin to make that fast bank,
But them mutts smell past my gas tank,
So I catch 59 back to H-Town, safely with my 38
Pounds, fresh from the border, may I take order,
You just them singled every five and a quarter.

(Straight up big baby)