Luyện nghe bài hát I Ain't Havin' That

They like us
up
They like us
They ain't gotta us fuck them son

forever like Wu Tang my crew brings drama
Hangin' your ass down by ya shoe strings
Smoke, tell 'em how we this
the whole shit just to big up my newness

(Now, by all means)
I do a show in New
And get wit b'out it 'bout it
(Starang, we missin' you)
Last year ATL we got physical

I talk, now, read about it in the interview
(While up in D&D)
I caught two and three
I was still gettin' bitches in the tunnel pictures
In the listenin' to 'Kris, I Got Next'
I hot sex, so I ran and got the Lex

Aiyo, shit down
to throw down, show up this a showdown
So, low, now, I'm low down
down the fort, now wit a fo' pound
Blow down ya whole first go round

Yo quickly be switched, bitch, and you'll frown
I dig in ya pockets and take all the dope out
Lay ya gold out now and don't pronounce one
Shut the up, probably cryin' hold down

Tired of punk asses, shit for a joke
Now, watch you'll pounce gat pointed at yo
Act like you now
We could be so foul, your hand, run up in ya bitch, no doubt

I ain't that
I ain't that
I havin' that
I ain't that

Shit, yo' game be asses, I got two to the Baja
Then turn into night we fuck, yo' cars privilege
I ain't got to because I did it
Run the rap when I was scrappin'

On these motherfuckin' streets of Brownsville gun clappin'
I ain't got to front, I make it
Strictly snappin' necks, strictly and techs
all night over, deuce, deuce, the feds

Yo, matter fact, a list of some of the shit I ain't havin'
First of all there won't be no talkin' out yo' ass, man
I ain't havin' no back stabbin', I ain't havin'
Run yo' mouth, you get smacked in it, why?
(Why?)

Why Why say goodbye to mister nice guy? Say hi to the bad guy
horsemen head the magnum force, man, rip you get lit the fuck up
(Speed)
Like a spliff of human torch, man, shit scorchin'

Do the your feet hurt from half-steppin'
Bitin' my shit a your teeth hurt
Word is Jovi B you wildin'
My dick stay out, my high stop ridin'
(My dick)

Son, niggaz tryin' ta beat me in the head wit gats that
(I ain't havin' that, I ain't that)
Run up in the piece think you gone that fuck that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)

U.S. at my crib, tryin' ta take me back, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I havin' that)
We could take it ol' at 3, meet me in the back, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

Yo, yo, ya at?
To all my peoples Hennessey off
Give a toast to my MFC
While you clowns waitin', Ruck is shakin' the

Wit some groundbreakin' shit that'll leave the thinking
When I cock back my pistol, drop and whistle
For my niggas to hold me down this here 'bout to get hit dude
We miss you, stick a niggas roll and his fool
I gotta clip for you and all of ya bull

U.S. and your little, whittle, when left is caught up on my pillow
Eat a dick 2 slices of bread, you fuckin' fag
MFC keep it
(Keep it cookin')

We emerge wit the print to plan my escape from central Brooklyn
Rock, the lock, Ruck, bust the sha sha
with the blast CC4 to blow the door
(Now, we the spot)

Armed and dedicated semi under rated, fuck it, to me by a wip ass
You niggaz lick ass, we blast gas freak mass
Doin' the Macarana 2 pounds of hash
(We havin' that)

I ain't that
I ain't havin'
I ain't that
I ain't havin'
I havin' that

You got no wins in mi casa
My shit's proper, you still my kielbasa
From hilshire I still fire from
Watch the birdie, I heard him tell the to the coppers

Clock ya comin' from the singin' operas
Met you at ya crib from the side, I dropped ya
Knocked ya, out ya mouth when I popped ya
Sent you upstate to get a gun from ya

Yo, live niggaz on the wall, write smoke, crack, fuck that
(I ain't havin' that, I havin' that)
Yo, ya smack me and I smack you back fuck
(I havin' that, I ain't havin that)

Y'all niggaz think y'all gon' come around here track, fuck that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)
And if you owe me dough, besta get my trap, fuck that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)

Son, you know they stand me
'Cuz my pack heat like Miami
Ran for these rappaz of the Grammy's
They be killin' me, how willingly be grillin' me

'Cuz they shorty wop just be me
it be my name or my big gold chain?
Now, we in the airport on our way to soul train
I got on the West coast
(West side)

That meet me at the airport, carryin' in they trench coats
In business class, eatin' toast and coffee
Tell the stewardess to back up off me we on
Warned ya but y'all still couldn't for the all-time great
H. word up

And if ya and I'm not home then you can call me back, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)
You can't smoke if you ain't put in for the sack, fuck that
(I havin' that, I ain't havin' that)

Son, don't fuck her raw, here's a hat, fuck that
(I ain't that, I ain't havin' that)
Here's a tic-tac, your breath like ass crack, fuck that

And when you know that you're MFC, you're MFC for life
98 shit, Willam H. Duren, Doc