Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever I woke up this morning, I've been on
Twist the cap up off my weed jar, and a cone
a shower and got gone in the wind, like Steve Wynn
I'm from the streets of California where we be hustlin and
Gettin' that women, mobbin' and mackin', and stackin'
Wheelin' and and makin' a killin' trying to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in front of the building
Packin' and totin' and the lean oh what a feelin'
a fraudulent, I'm immaculate
He a simp, he a sap, he
I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a percent
I'm a hustler like Flynt
Getting money's my habit, I stay in the
Papered up a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I walked in a loser, I'm gonna walk out a winner
I like a hooper man, papered up like a printer
I ain't too tight, I'm touched, I'm throwed
health, argue with my conscience cursin' out myself
My got a psychologist, neurologist too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

Act you know
Dippin' and bobbin' and
In and out of traffic, from the to the evening
Trying to get my right, my nigga
it to the ceiling

Act like you
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
Stack it to the

Drinking and on some good bud
Smokin' on a strain you never of
shit, I got it from my plugs
You my weed on my rug
That's twenty pushups, that's a party
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I allow (who?)
Aliens around me, that's a
They'll try to sneak me and turn my into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe with his .45 Glock
I'm ADHD, need something to calm my
You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' like
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
Liquor aroma, me in the elevator
More whips than Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, like a car lot
My bite is than my bark
you thought, heart
Bitch you full of shit a dog park
Mark ass poodle, square as a
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a one's business?
While sideline niggas be always trying to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their like some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running their mouth like that, we call 'em
That's how a gets smack-smacked
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even bring 'em (bitch)

Act like you
Dippin' and bobbin and
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
Trying to get my paper right, my
Stack it to the

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
it to the ceiling

...to the