Luyện nghe bài hát Thugged Out

Yo! do this!
Uh!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Ha!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Ha!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
Uh-oh, uh-oh!
nigga!
Throw up yo hands if you out
The regime up in bitch!

Throw up yo if you thugged out
First nigga act up, first nigga gettin out.
Throw up yo if you thugged out
First nigga act up, nigga gettin drugged out.

1 *(yukmouth)*

I do for the
Real killas, and dealers
Affiliated wit niggas, and blood spillas
Put a through you tough niggas

No dragon on you, nigga
No from us
In thugs we
Niggas get rushed like hot whitend
Up yo
I fuck up yo
my competition ass froze
We tag on they
I'm as cold as
Enemies get to a pole, blind fold then I unload.

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My choppers
Speakin the of carribean in tropolis
my z-z in
True clocker welfare recipiants
of a crispy
An anamalisitc
My race
rhyme
The way I ahead of my time
Give me a billboard, an you bet I
You fuckas
I rukus
Thug, makin you hug
Stayin away from you nothin but bum
The empire is back an we out
Phats, keke, maxx, poppa l.q., an my nigga yukmouth
These bitches beggin me to come to
A
But hear us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, that's on the nigga
You cannot block the regime from knots, no matter what you do

Ya an blue nigga
Undercovers like malik
Lyrically nina's usin a force yoda!

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

Nigga this maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo life
We get it fuck the book
True thug that turned to real crooks
Robbin the microphone, you get yo brain
I told ya we takin over
A niggas rollin rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, 9, an phats on ya
All wit the caulked gage, buggin out oklahoma
a corona
We 8-balls until we fall out
If you got a problem wit the regime, your called out
We all out for war
These niggas don't no more
I'm takin like michael jordan
An I'm the to score
So fuck you fake ass niggas who be a plot
I take yo over
Wit the nitroglycerian
got us fucked up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

They got us up
I've tough
Since a young
Nothin to
Lots of plus some war cuts
It ain't shit, but a to me

I the man you claim to be
strike back
Gun fight, we had to hype
This is the phats see dream a fat kat
wanna funk, we get dressed in black
Caulk the
Screamin regime til bust back
It's mobb-symboly, I die you me
Tatted wit dragons in a custom bently

I'm down to so don't tempt me
I'm hella drunk, an hella blown off the
wit me
See killas in mine
this shrine
To feed these fuckin children of
Uh
in my eyes
As I the regime nigga
(regime nigga, nigga)
a pile of money machine.

5 *(poppa l.q. of the regime)*

No I've never to the pen
But I did a bid
An I ain't dumb enough to speak on the I've did
Guess somebody caught the killer the police did
Find him in the car from dope over split wigs
Deadly lyrics to
sure the killas feelin my shit
Explicit lyrics an content
Shot representin at all the major events
And gang bangin got the streets way too tense
I to deal wit it
I'm in the fields, tinted on my wheel wit the steel in it
We keep puffin an real wit it
jury linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits
Of a long grindin, enjoyin the fruits of our labor
And suits from my tailors
Some young playas, for greater
You know all bad
make it all good
Pushin the cavvy to touch the navvi wit the leather an
It's nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The nigga from the "o"
My flow is certified theme music for organized
that burglurised banks, and murdered guys for they pies
for the sky
Techniques robert deniro in "heat"
kani's
No disguise, in the middle of the
Buckin at
Fuck
Got a rove jeep
Wit 12 open faced teeth
A rolex
links, crops, an bracelets
But ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, duct taped wit they bitch
In the
Where the is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up they fuckin squad car grenaded
You want shit?
I the nitroglycerian
That's smoother than a pair of new timberlands
Get
But be no p
I'm from a city called city
See these regime be wit me
Fuck christy juss
True thugs do an come up wit hits
Like hendricks
Shock the like snoop at no limit
Yuk signed to rap-a-lot, yeah
I a playa, I juss mack-a-lot
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo in the back of the lot
Keep my shit for underground fragment
Jackpot j struck it rich hit the
The top
Blood on wallet be from sprees
Rock farm, wit tats all over my arm
Bullet wounds like a nigga fresh back nam
Yo get yo mash on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

[how old were you, mr. washington when you hit the streets ]

10.

[how did you ]

I a runner.

[a runner.]

right.

[could you us a description of how you lived, the next few
Years.]

I kinda moved up. I lived where the money goes. I got busted, 2 and
1/2 in ? ?

[and you got out.]

I got a piece of to myself. took it. one block at a time. nobody
me.