Luyện nghe bài hát Killin Season

In the muthafuckin
For the 9 to the 6

To them niggas
We know your spot

The red on your dome, geah fool, I'm ready to pull this
Trigger, nigga, straight bangin to the
baby gangster on the block
159 reasons to bust you with the glock
It looks rain, so I'm wettin
Your hood, of course, no remorse, start jettin
No need for fuckin the killer when I'm goin down
Nigga please, no r.i.p.'s for these westside
I fires up the stick, the nine and the clip
Which I stash by my fuckin
set-trippin, reminiscin
Bout my homies who died from the
casual to short
Line up the homie as a falls
No time for back-trackin, cause hood calls
Housecalls be given, where you livin,
My mentality's like the has risen
Hit your block with the glock cocked, I'm ready to it
Not givin a damn, fool, catch the bullet
Your mama, your daddy, your old
Oh no, I'm loco, out the roof of the
Aw shit, spits out the hole of the mac
I will send you on a trip where you won't be comin
I pops a nigga, and I'm cheesin
'96 is the killin

murder murder
Kill kill (3x)

murder murder murder...
Geah, on

flee the muthafuckin scene with nobody alive
The mentality's got me in '85
Park boy bangin (right)
Peelin caps back to collect my
From the 3rd to the cly', then back to
Niggas through, they get nothin but the vapors
Bitch please, 159
Fill your bucket, fuck it, full of holes swiss cheese
And ain't no this b.g. from the c-p-t
Dippin around, fool, where I be
Niggas disrespect, makes me
Represent the hood on my fuckin belt
Chalkin up points, on joints, I roll through
With the of fuckin you
on niggas, we need to quit
Say it ain't no peace, this piece on yo ass like flies on shit
So fool, test
I be playin connect the dot on your chest
For no reason
'96 is the season

Murder murder
Kill kill (3x)

Little
bam
Da foe
And

Murder murder
It stop
Murder murder
Till your ass drop
murder murder

on

Time when doin drive-by's
Cause it only a sec
For boom bam to the tec
Not givin a if the clip is empty
If y'all buckin, I'm buckin, I'm takin 2 me
I hear sirens, tires screechin, bitches
Niggas duckin, that muthafuckin buckin
You can't compete, your street catch the blues
You pay some muthafuckin dues
And ain't no stoppin till the clip is
If I'm gon' die, your mark-ass gon' die too
the slug in the back of the shoulder
Swear, like a chair, muthafucka, fold ya
Niggas on the run got my back, and cool
Like king tee that gives me permission to act a
(just clownin) no need to run for protection
Catch that ass dippin when we slippin through the inner
Niggas be like trees, and
Another dead, the killin season

Murder murder
It don't
Murder murder
Till ass gon' drop
Murder murder
It don't
Murder murder
the shit
Murder murder
It don't
murder murder
Till ass gon' drop
Murder murder
But ain't all
murder murder
Cause your ass fall

Compton is this

You know where the we from
Ugh

Original cmw in the muthafuckin
You how we do it
Back for ass for the 9 to the 6
Mc
Dj
Tha
hawk & bird
Da foe
Bam
My tom
My nigga ? ? ? ? ? is in the
My nigga mike t in the muthafuckin
in this muthafucka

Y'all how we do it
For the 9 to the 6,
And you watch the fuck out
Cause we know your residential spots

Ugh

Murder murder
It don't
Murder murder
Cause your ass gon'
Murder murder
murder murder
It quit
Murder murder
the shit