Luyện nghe bài hát Next Up

Gawddayum, I don't know what y'all thinkin' 'bout
But I think this right here is about to shut dem damn haters

I'm from the that make niggaz walk slow, talk low
With white chalk-o, mi casa be uno ocho
Brooklyn motherfucker, this
Pardon my and French

Okay, I clever like Mayweather with lay leather
Till your face sever, one of the ever
Beyond ringin' bells, my name's so
Shit, I got the swagger leave Dakota Fanning

I hope you over standin', I stay sucker-free
The next king of in the game, you got enough to be
Your last a week, that'll be luckily
Fuck with me, the rap game'll need custody

I'm the thug that be surrounded with women
Gave the game true before you found it in denim
Feel the Wrath of Kane and you could not
The hip hop version of The Ring and you just watched the

And keep eyes on the niggas in Ward
Triple black in the candy painted car is the of board
Me or my brother on pall with nigga
We trill, the wheel, understand nigga?

I smother and split a bitch down to the
High pressure, if you don't your ass bendin'
I'm way endin' in my series of warnin'
You flex me tonight, playa, you dead by the mornin'

Bun Beater, the best breathin' or deceased
From the South to Midwest, to the East
Go to any city nigga and my name up
I bet I eat the best they got in the game up

a nigga up, email him or chirp him
Make a meal out his ass and then burp him
Don't fuck around, I'm not your homey
I'm the of the Underground, so act like you know me

Homie, we big steppin', big
We givin' kids Smith & Wesson's lessons, you get left a sketchin'
Left with the Midwest, Texans
G. and Daddy Kane, the click Texas, pop you to

I put private planes on swift Jetsons, niggaz what it is
When you see the ball cap and a slick
Till you vexin to a movie clip from the Westerns
Shit the Uzi clip lift up your midsection

He will you to the nose on the Glock fam
Give you metal jackets like clothes from a band
holes, you get those on your top, man
High roller dose some hoes on the plan

Froze but never coldly rolls a hot hand
We stackin' till the rubber bands pop scrams
And I ain't when I'm in the pop stance
Bank pounds like James give 'em Hot Pants

I make your get down and open it up
Put my dick up in they jaws and go in butt
I'm a young hot street flame, call me Sweet James
Or me Sir Jones, two hundred dollar cologne

Board or Issey Miyaki
I got your girl mine, meat strong like
I ain't Rocky but I keep her
Fuck around, I'll knock tuna fish out of socket

bitch out of pocket, she under pimpery
She reckless watchin' my top fall in
On my with the quick scream
Fettucini, linguine, and a bowl of lean

What you know gettin' cross country?
Nigga, your big but your diamond look monkey
You need to take that shit
That ain't no Emmy what the fuck you done to that

Bitch, what the fuck you to that?
Now, damn, somebody need to Jacob ass over that