Luyện nghe bài hát Mr. Fuck Up

* (NOT Money -- MC Ren's brother)

My niggaz call me and yes I'm known to be a fuck up
Loaded clip, folded sticks, my and double cuffed up
Put my stick so nigga my pockets with the dollar
'Cause they rock the stock in a private prison parlor
Grinch you did it, black ass really did it
Give the microphone and let him kill it
Give Bone the microphone and watch me you like a cop
Lil' G from the so the maggot won't stop
And plus I'm packin' always keep a good grip
My homies call me Bone from the Whole Click
I live like a mack and keep the bitches on my
You sorry sap sips still hangin' on my
Compton is the heart and where we all from
The jackin' goin' on in the and in the slum
And don't be caught slippin' we dippin' the 4
'Cause Ren'll grab his and watch him smoke 'em from the door
And then we make a and put that ass in the air
True checkin' done by the fuckin' player
I'm headed to the cut with straight chronic in my
make 'em kill 'em 'cause I'm servin' 'em spot
And that's how it's I keep it flowin' like a sailor
My beats are my feats are star, some called me Chuck Taylor
Then I call the Juvy 'cause I know we Coupe
Don't worry 'bout a damn we got the end, we loot

Then call me Mr. Dopeman when I'm chillin' in the
My niggaz call me Bishop when I'm rollin' with my
The crackers call me bandit when I'm runnin' the cops
And the bitches call me daddy when I'm up the cock
Yo the Mr. Fuck up so I figure that I'm fucked
Got no luck, shit, gotta go and earn a quick
Boom boom, is the of my cannon
I'm a nigga with a motherfuckin' gun master plannin'
I'm a crazy ass nigga makin' fall
A nigga from the streets in the fuckin' hall
I place where we smoke bud and get bent
And when it comes to put on MC Ren shit
Now everybody chillin' and the bitches gettin'
Took a trick to the now she gots ta lick me
out my ass hole like a fuckin' groupie
I'm through now I cleans up and call my Juvy
Headin' downstairs my hand me a 4-O
Smokin' the you know it's the indo
Now I'm feelin' like I'm sittin' on a cloud
The dust we kick I guess we live our lives foul
Beware of the nigga they call J-Rock
The party's goin' but I still got my glock
I'm watchin' for the bad in every bunch
And if necessary motherfucker we can thump
Or get a pump, put a hole in your chest
Slugs goin' straight through a bullet proof
Matters gettin' worse if I have to drop the
ya in your face yellin' till ya hit the hall
So smalls, get your fuckin' 9 and clip
And let these motherfuckers know up on the Whole Click