Luyện nghe bài hát On The Real

Yeah, yeah, on the, on the, on the
On the real, all you crab niggaz know the

up in this nigga
Let's pay homage to
put the crown where it's at
10 never been done this real by nobody

To my seed, may I lead you no greed or evil
In the categories of stories I breed my
You the money, blues, blunts, broken 22's
Monkey see, do

sipping sunny dew
Now V S O P in a phantom, mad smoky
Murder trees, cruisin' gat in the so it won't poke me
Up in the Trump Plaza, 3010, don't make no noise

'Cause we dirty tell hoes hurry in
We got the room lit up with perfume and mad
And there's video taping bloomin' on the zoomin' lens
on you nondescript niggaz

You're marked for death like Colombians with bad coke gyp niggaz
Tilt the dutch, twisted up the uwee if skilled enough
In will we trust, salute the dead the nine mili

verse is 10 years old, 9 1/2 years old
Street's
The Rebirth comin' at you this baby
It's on

Yeah to the hood, may be the day that we pop them bottles
This is mandatory, if there's not tomorrow?
You know the murder rate, jealousy, you 'em say
He say, she say, I'm bout cheddar, he deserve to make

Sippin' clear liquor with niggaz, that sideways
Listenin' close, to every word in case they
Up in the Apartment 5D
Spark a lea' it's bout da reed, everything the block see

We 'bout to need to take the corners from them
Get it on so y'all can move coke powder, by the hour
Hold in case we rip niggaz
Loaded teflon coated flip niggaz

From ninth grade to lightweight to to my
with guns in hand
Police vans, they the summers again

Yeah, to the people
to the phonies
This to the mic 1, 2 check
Y'all on me

And they look like you approachin' me how you, homie?
The F B I see one problem, they try to slump me
After the young black male he makes a lot of money
So hustlers make crack sales they deprived and hungry

My hates that I could run free state to state with hunnies
makin' cake with real golded plate rims on Hum-V's
The bush stroker, the kush smoker,
Just when you thought it was look over your shoulders

I'm 30 now, baby sip drinks and sip 'em
Motto no stress, less than I did befo'
You see the kid was broke I spitted vivid expressions of hard
Livin ghetto children, of a god, religion was fast women
Expensive cars y'all witnessin' 10 years