Luyện nghe bài hát In The Trunk

on
Where they at, where at, where they at

I sold every day me and Freddy B
Been famous 1983
Give me ten dollars, and you straight get
A rap all about you called the request
Oakland, you I go way back
To coug nuts, fal stangs, and
When put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's burners
Everybody got addicted to my beat
town fucked around and started smoking D
Every rap I made was about this town
I made 7 albums with no James Brown
And even I love his music, I just can't stand
The way used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 albums, you call me weak
Cause I don't sell in the East
Now what's funky, I say on an old hoe
I guess fools don't know
Why some good rappers can't no tapes
It's not the fault, the shit sounds fake
You wanna be in the trunk, the booming box
While the young ride on your jock
You can't do it like this homey, so pass it
And stop kissing them white folks
It's like you a whole damn key
You rap so fast you keep leaving the
I'm the old school, I love P-Funk
But now rap music is all that they
So I'm in my car, I play Clinton
And when I'm on the I start pimping
And I hear your shit, I push eject
Then I it out the window with the rejects
And the hard core rappers go soft
I like to watch when they ass off
Cause nothing worth kicking like a sucka MC
And any other ever talk about me
I don't stop rapping, all they can say
And how I dogg bitches, day
But if you can't be a dogg, then weak
You be phony like a side freak
rappers try to come off positive
Where I'm from that ain't how it is
say rap music is here to stay
But the sucka MC's don't that way
It took 8 long years I got my break
So I wonder why rapper's make ass tapes
You get paid like I did, so give up punk
And your in the studio, I'm in the trunk
You got no choice, so don't flip coin
This the military, so you punks can't join
It ain't pop, it's called rap
From California and the shit sounds phat
I'm spitting raps to my homies
That's why listen to the one and only
I used to be broke, but now we all to be
Got no game for a bitch, all the is for me
And these bitches, say shit to me
They never could fuck with Short baby
I'm not a tounge twisting rapper a funny style
Don't dress hip hop and dance wild
But I do sell records a motherfucker
Even though you might I'm just sucka
I the beat and then never switch
Grab the microphone and call you a bitch
You want rent money, I got money
One thing's for sure, I won't it to a hoe
I throw a bitch in the god damn
And slamming that Oakland funk
Short Dogg's in the house, once
Trying to fade the platnum, with the Pimp
And when I do, I'm going to the bank
some money and buy some dank
You can't relate to my motherfucking
That's why they listen to the one and
I grew up on the called P
But these growing up on me
And if I ego trip, and my head is
I my ass back, to where I grew up
And get real boy, never too late
I do like you and make a weak ass tape
I'm in the

In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk beating down the

In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk beating the block