Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

[50
Yeah, I like the way this
This make me wanna (G-G-G-G, G-Unit!)
Buck somethin, (G-UNIT!)

[Hook: 50
you shit on me, I shit on you
You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you
An eye for an eye
Survive the shots or die

Get 'em Banks!

[Verse One: Lloyd - singing]
can't hold me
I'm Banks the one and on-ly
Not your buddy, not your pal, not your
But ain't a government around can control me
Oh no!!!

Uhh, I'm on that "Doggystyle" shit, man I don't a ho
Poppa wasn't 'round, so I had to let my brother
Never stay at center, play the back and let your money
Most them niggas be around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica yeah that's where I come from
If you see a nigga with me then more than one gun
Fly straight soldier, ain'tcha tired of bein the one
Or are you satisfied bein nigga's Dun-Dunn
We all know turnin sour when you gettin it
Some niggas hate me in the hood, but I don't owe them shit
Smilin all up my face I don't know them niggas sick
But I can care less, I'm on the Island and I'm rich

[Verse Two: Young
Walk it and talk it, it how I live it nigga
Came from the country, South get it nigga
Feds try and question me, they run up in my
They said there was a shootin, but they found no
New York City they throwin niggas under jails
I got love for dem and I ain't from dere
Now bust a shot for dem boys on da
I can feel your nigga, I'm still in the game nigga
There's somethin bout the sound of a
That make me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay
See every time we 'round, you hear shots go off
And get they chains snatched when they tryin to show off
in broad day, we do it the mob way
And come to find out, these niggas softer Sade'
I'mma keep livin my with a pistol in my palm
And a wrist of ice, you can call me a Don motherfucker

[Interlude:
We got the
So make one move and you're dy-ing
Ain't no time for a plea and cry-ing
Cause my niggas ain't gon' stop
So you

[Verse 50 Cent]
I got a handgun habit, nigga front let you have it
When the shots go off, cops 50 back at it
I'm allergic to the feathers on bird-ass niggas (yea)
and I'll put your brains on that curb fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, one spark and I spray
Nuff from that H-K, I don't play bitch (uh-huh)
like I'm militant, back on that gorilla shit
Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but niggas can't me (yea)
I squeeze 'til I run out of ammo, if it's a problem handled
I have your people pourin our liquor and lightin
You fuck around I blow brains on my New York Times
Run home, turn to the sports and read your mind
It's crystal clear, you should feel when that gat
First there's crime scene tape, you end up in that black hearse
We don't go to funerals, but we'll go to wake fam
Do body all banged up, you made a mistake man