Luyện nghe bài hát Throwed Off

[Gudda
Yeah,
Ok, I walk up in the club with the cherry bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm with a Berry body
You know I do, I, g-get straight to the moolah
Wrist wear frigid and my is a Franck Muller
I'm young moolah, Gudda [x2], I
Remember when I used to stuff my in my shoe box
Now I got two large accounts with stacks and large amounts
the fuck you niggas talkin' bout, cause we ain't tryin' talk it out
Pistol hangin' out my jeans, it ain't a thing, talk it out
Let chopper start to sing and let it ring and then I'm out
Yeah, you know what I'm sippin', purple got me
Scoop chicken up and let her lick me like a lizard
I'm on South Beach chillin' and I'm tryin' to fuck hottie
Get her to the crib and her fuck everybody
You know the team, it's Young Money everybody
In the rap game, so it's fuck

[Lil
Married to the mob, you alive
My pussy feel like heaven to a God
And I came in this bitch with my
Kidnap the baby and the babysitter, yeah
I be me, don't give a fuck bout what you doin'
gang bitch, big B's, Boston Bruins
I could do shit, eyes closed, nothin' to it
Bullets fuck body up, they ain't even tryna view it
I go tough, I go
Murk your pussy ass and everyone you in with
Fuck you with a pool
Make you swallow two
Fuckin' right, we
We done watched too many
Then too many doobies
Murk you out, deuces
We don't know what is
bullet proof vest so useless
Flag red bruises
Shoot ya head with them
I swear, your honor, I a dealer, I'm a user, ya dig
I up the sig, point it at ya wig
Pull on the highway, throw you off the bridge
We don't give a fuck, and we never did
Shit, three you never hear, let him live
I'm in my own zone, it got me off
I break bitches down, I break these hoes off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got on the tape
Public apology, for the wait