Luyện nghe bài hát Speakers on Blast

It's not usual, the game be, all up on some South
West Coasting, you can tell by my outfit
Red 'nati fitted, "Blood in, out" shit
jelly jars, nigga, bird in the couch shit
The mad rapper, Oscar the Grouch
Except I'm hopping out of cans, I'm pulling out shit
the 4 though, double X 3-D Polo
If hip-hop was the league, I'd be the logo
Your last shit was so-so, you should to Jermaine
I've been hard since I was
Niggas feel my pain, I make it rain the strippers
Go the grain, and put your shit back like some clippers
I and then I hang out at the Staples like Blake Griffin
You can tell I'm getting the way that glass house is sitting
I mash out the strip like Nas when I'm dippin
Feeling like Son, the way that It Was Written

Them boys want they on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up time them cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I high, don't even ask
I got another ounce up in the stash
Them boys want music on blast
Don't turn me down, turn me up every time cops pass
Mashed on the gas, am I getting high, even ask
Cause I take 2 hits, and then I

I see the cops in the rearview, why can't a motherfucker in the car
Feelin' like Missy, why you all up in my
They must know that I got bird all up in my grill
by the Armor All while it's sparkling off my wheels
And I fuck hoes that pray on Dwight and Shaquille
Not them throwback rats be on showin' college hill
For real, I think my first album sold 5
And you say to "He's broke"
Well how the am I ballin', like Spalding
I did a couple of movies, now agents calling and
Can't get to the phone right now cause balls is all in this mouth
When did we start taking tricks out?
Now she gon' run her big and tell her girlfriend
You had her all up in the
Blowing yo cheese on Louie Vuitton, and now that bitch is in the
And after the next draft, she gon' start that cycle
How you claimin' that bitch when she with
again cause

[Big
Daddy Fat Sax, my balls are on chin, but can you tell me where my dick's at?
Come order ghetto, hunter, head buster through the chit-chat
I skip to the lou, my darling bring the thunder, I'm the that strikes twice
Motherfucker, call me of, cause I run the plantation and I'm whooping niggas asses
If they disrespect the presentation, below the Mason-Dixon, we facin' the basses were missin' pimpin'
You can embrace it or come face to face with devastation
My is never fadin', I'm in my Optimus Prime transform
it up, heat it up, speed it up, that means I'm gone
Like gears, ahead of your Buzz, Toy Story and club
Boy, gone, the are phoning home
But I feel like a librarian, cause are being' loaned out like books
A castle of crooks, rape and pillage
They'll do for money, I bet misleading the village


Not from New England, but I pack a
Not Atlanta, but I got the cater
Not from Chicago, but I'm a
I'm a bay area nigga, 49er,
I'm about my bread man, I ain't no
Now these ass niggas soft as table butter
I'm my riches, magazines, street hustler
You can ask your uncles, daddies, mothers, and your older
But I used to flee through that white
Sellin' that shit the retail price
I'm a rare like the bike club, get it right
Desperado like Tori Amos, shout out to
I got my red cup, and some
What kind of you smoking pimp? Blue dream
My let my hit that there hemp, do your thing
How many woofers in trunk? 4 15s