Luyện nghe bài hát Round Here

[Chorus: (Paul Wall)]
Guess it's just a hood thing, woodgrain, grippin on the
My chain lookin the sun
turned way up, maybe 'cause I'm draped up, stay plush
I don't know where y'all came
But just how we do (that's-that's how we do it 'round here)
That's how we do it 'round here (that's-that's how we do it here)
That's how we do (that's-that's how we do it here)
That's how we do it 'round here (that's-that's-that's-that's-that's how we do it here)
how we do

[Verse 1: Wall]
Knock, knock, who is it? Guess who come to pay a
It's the Mr. Walking Blizzard, the "here lizard, lizard"
Flyer a flock of pigeons, the earlobes are vivid
But if you try to test, you'll get smoked like a
Last palace, fast livin, Guy like Peter Griffin
And my wallet is like turkeys at Thanksgiving
I grind hard, my pockets full like Mass
Paper long, my money like yoga class
"Get Money", yeah that's my task, I'm like a piece of trash
My wrists light up like camera flash while commentators live in the
But me and Koopa on our mash from Antoine to Ledbetter
Got more paper than a mail shredder, 'cause 'round we go getters

[Verse 2:
Chamillitary mayne, who knowin just how I do, so it's time to up your tuner
With radio or not, they talk about me like a rumor (rumor)
And they hope my album will leak on the and come sooner (sooner)
I now renounce my as the King of Zamunda
Hollywood, not true, been sick,
The inventors of the "what it do, " the Don Kings of the candy blue
We don't really mean to but we legends so act like you knew
That we one notch below Pimp and but we (way higher than you)
I'm skatin, no Daytons, Paul Wall to plate and (plate and)
Ya must've got us mistaken 'cause ain't no play-action (fakin)
Earthquakin, shakin (shakin), the realest in my state and (say what?)
The me like I'm God, they be like As-Salamu Alaykum, so vacant

[Verse 3: Wall]
'Round here the pays, it's all work and no play
My pockets thick like Deltas and my Sprite's pink like
yourself, you'll be amazed, all haters can suck on these
Me and back in the game, I'm Reggie Bush, he's Drew Brees
I run the mic and he's so throwed, now all the are quite pleased
'Cause they thought we fell off like dry and bad weave
"Get Ya Mind Correct" please, my wrist like winter breeze
'Cause I'm grindin up all like little kids on Christmas Eve
I keep the stacks on deck a lawn chair
The give off a glare, so when ya stare, do so with care
'Round here we one but them boys far from it
I'm in the paper like the comics, how we do it 'round here