Luyện nghe bài hát What Son What

[Noreaga -
keep it grimy! (get with that shit)
What y'all get man?
What y'all gets unit (murder unit)
or burn (burn unit)
Get a fuckin life unit (real life fuckin unit)
A real unit; a motherfuckin, CNN (CNN!)
My nigga Swift on the motherfuckin (fours)
We thugged out (what!)
Yo, yo.. we out y'all!
Capone-N-Noreaga]
[N] I say I don't give a fuck
[C] Why do don't really the fuck?
[N] Cause I don't really a fuck
[C] So we don't really the fuck
[N] You gon' roll me?
[C] Hell
[N] son what!? You gon' roll with me?
[C] Hell
[N] son what!? You gon' roll with me?
[C] yeah
[N] What son what!? You gon' with me?
[C] Hell
[N] What son what!? You gon' die me?
[C] Hell
[N] son what!?

Right every I stack another war, story and track
Settle for money; hungry cats peddle the crack
Some strive to be the man but never make it that's the further
What part you playin the game, who slash worker
Some'll pray to Jesus, I to Jes to free us
Don't look for bail Rufus bail Criminal
When a judge Father you sure?
Cats never sent a to jail, they send him bail
I been as real as I stealin lunch
I got the greats this old man give me hearse and,
I made a move a plan scauwered new land (fuck a blue van)
My shoes bang, niggaz, walk in the path that I lead (I lead)
Do in New York, money and murder
talk, ball like Atlanta Hawk
No respect, on the stacks of the court
I off in the street thing, triple it's on

[M.A.Z.E.]
Ya niggaz livin a lie, spittin the
Its no room, no BI for y'all in the
See me I, stay it pop
Off the chain like my diss and it
the same is the strippin the spot
I'm hot, rock glizzery from the to top
Grizzy, don't let it pop, didn't he spy on these
To off the killer in me
Me and six will slick it (through it)
river to the con do it
I see Don P calm as me, like spazin on your cheek
green to my eye, shit, write it down sincere
Get to say my in the air
pipe down, put they mic down
Niggaz scared that we ain't drop yet
Yet year we show ya all who the hottest (hottest)
The projects, I rep to my (rep it nigga!)
X'd out hoes, we (X'd out hoes!)
We sharin or fillin 'boes; see how we go?
[Chorus] - with Noreaga

Keep the Mac under the
To niggaz ready to creep
And my niggaz stayin heat
Like the go - what son what!?
the shit go - what son what!?
See me in the hood
With a though, with a little puppet
And we doing no good
Pussy sub, sub, through the club
don't need no math
I rather, get head, I don't no ass
Fuck all of y'all, y'all don't rep for me
I you, and you ain't the set for me
I'm in vicinities, gettin high with your enemies
So niggaz better playin
Before I get the M-One and just start
Keep block on lock, so now you go
Nigga, I bricks like my name Alpo


It's no rumor what you about us in clubs
Or freight some Blood
No vest protect the for your mug
Snake hear the move, every chance they get
Rap niggaz I'ma 'em on the advance they get
Hustlin niggaz, I catch Uptown
Soon as papi hit you, I'm right behind you holding it
Ya niggaz, got it
Pop bottles and
Might fit, you come out of your jewels
A little richer
Every sixteenth a little more sicker
Rap for M.A.Z.E. that's my nigga
I it for the streets
My bitches and freaks, lacking to twenty G's
Thugging every week, stylin out, Violator I'm out
MU and thugged out, them hoes talkin
We off the yell dogg, the entire know this
Cause me and M.A.Z.E. bet fire, out strong, motherfucker


Huh? We say what son what!?
What? Yeah (stop playing.. motherfucker)
Yeah, yeah; we say son what!?
Huh? Yeah, yeah; we say what son what!?
Huh? Huh? Yeah yeah, we say what son what!?
unit, burn unit; my nigga Swift on the motherfuckin four's
What
continues to adlib in background*}
[Funkmaster Flex - over end of
Yeah, baby!
Thugged Out! to Martin Moore
Shout to my man
Things is baby
Sixty Minutes of Volume Four (okay)
to Irv Gotti (ill sound, murder)