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 if you thugged out
The up in this bitch!

Throw up yo hands if you out
nigga act up, first nigga gettin drugged 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 mobb niggas, and blood
Put a slug you tough niggas

No dragon on you, nigga
No love us
In thugs we
get rushed like hot whitend snuff
Up yo
I up yo flows
my competition ass froze
We tag on they
I'm as as pocinos
get tied to a pole, blind fold then I unload.

Verse 2 *(tech of the regime)*

out
My choppers
the opposite of carribean in tropolis
my z-z in
True clocker from welfare
of a crispy
An anamalisitc
My caristian
Jedi
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 but bum bustas
The is back an we bugged out
Phats, keke, maxx, l.q., gonzoe an my nigga yukmouth
bitches beggin me to come to menage
A
But muslims us say, "hum to allah"
They fly, that's on the nigga
You cannot block the regime from makin knots, no what you do

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

Verse 3 *(madd of the regime)*

this madd maxx
You cross the regime, you get yo took
We get it fuck the good
True thug niggas turned to real crooks
the microphone, you get yo brain shook
I told ya we takin soldier
A sober niggas rover's
Me, ke, gonz, yuk, tech 9, an 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
niggas don't want no more
I'm takin over michael jordan
An I'm the to score
So fuck you fake ass who be plannin a plot
I take yo over
Wit the rock
got us fucked up.

Verse 4 *(phats of the regime)*

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

I play the man you to be
Niggas back
Gun fight, we had to hype
This is the phats see like a fat kat
They wanna funk, we get dressed in
Caulk the
regime til they bust back
It's mobb-symboly, I die you me
Tatted wit dragons in a coffin bently

I'm down to blast so don't me
I'm hella drunk, an hella off the geniti
wit me
See these in mine
Buildin shrine
To feed fuckin children of mine
Uh
Look in my
As I bleed the regime
(regime nigga, nigga)
Havin a pile of machine.

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

No I've never to the pen
But I did a bid
An I ain't enough to speak on the dirt I've did
Guess somebody the killer before the police did
Find him in the car leakin from over split wigs
Deadly to spit
sure the killas feelin my shit
Explicit lyrics an adult
Shot representin at all the major events
And bangin got the streets juss way too tense
I learned to wit it
I'm in the fields, tinted on my wheel wit the steel in it
We keep puffin an real wit it
That linin, showcasin our diamonds to benifits
Of a long time grindin, enjoyin the of our labor
And rented from my tailors
young playas, strivin for greater
You it's all bad
Let's it all good
Pushin the cavvy to touch the wit the leather an wood
regime nigga!

6 *(yukmouth)*

The hardest from the "o"
My flow is certified theme music for organized
Niggas that burglurised banks, and murdered guys for pies
for the sky
Techniques like robert in "heat"
kani's
No disguise, in the middle of the
at police
Fuck
Got a range jeep
Wit 12 faced gold teeth
A piece
links, crops, an bracelets
But that ain't shit, to leave a nigga naked, duct taped wit bitch
In the
Where the is?
Big
Cops raided, but ended up they fuckin squad car grenaded
You want blazed
I spit the
That's smoother than a pair of new timberlands
Get
But be no p
I'm from a called weed city
See regime niggas be wit me
Fuck juss remmy
True thugs do drugs an up wit hits
Like jimmi
the world like snoop at no limit
Yuk to rap-a-lot, yeah nigga
I ain't a playa, I juss
the gat
Tryin to snatch yo watch in the of the lot
Keep my shit for fragment rock
Jackpot j struck it hit the lottery
The top
Blood on wallet be robbin sprees
Rock phat farm, wit tats all my arm
Bullet wounds like a nigga back from nam
Yo get yo mash on. (echos out)

*(talking)*

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

10.

[how did you ]

I a runner.

[a runner.]

right.

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

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

when you got out.]

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