Luyện nghe bài hát Yeah!

[Andre
Man, I'ma run my mouth and get your corporate
Bring my out in the middle of a drought
I blow lye its "God Bless Buddha"
It's of like the feelin' runnin' with a known shooter
Baby I'ma it to the limit, run into the abyss
You know its god number 7 on top ten list
Its kamikaze, look into the eyes of a
and Las Vegas shit is where you might find me
Fillmo' down the nose to the toes
Get your cell phone you can picture pose
Picture all the clothes, all the hoes
Picture the perfection when your money pile
You crocodile style, I sport gators
They still bite, so fresh with the flavor
Got Khan? Fillmore's one sign
Steak, potatoes, garlic bread and prawns!

[Chorus: Marv (Andre Nickatina)]
(YEEEAAH) San Francisco
niggas try'na bring back the 80's, YEEEAAH
(Yeah money is the
and run around like its Grand Theft Auto, Chicka-kahnn)
on my hip, good weed in my mouth
Gangsta in the whip, YEEEAAH
(Your not dealin with
When you try to hop, watch your body shut down)

Marv]
Yeah, nigga I'ma fool
for breakfast, eat brunch by noon
24 Davins, only the lip
The rest of the women, color as the whip
Jump out and crack a nigga shit open
back in the nickle with the barrel still smokin
Fillmore nigga, yeah bitch break
I want no pussy, I don't want no head
But you can get a sack of purple stuff
Some gin and a bag of Hillary Duff
I'ma pimp, in a gangsta's body
I'm on and gonna fuck around and hurt somebody
On tuesday and thursday the ghost up
Then everybody runs, they'll you up
shady ass nigga, man I ain't gon' lie
I just wanna dope, smoke weed and get high, you BITCH

Messy Marv (Andre Nickatina)]
(YEEEAAH) San Francisco
Fillmo' niggas try'na back the 80's, YEEEAAH
(Yeah is the motto
and run around town its Grand Theft Auto, Chicka-kahnn)
Wally on my hip, weed in my mouth
niggas in the whip, YEEEAAH
(Your not dealin clowns
When you try to kick hop, watch your body down)

Nickatina]
You might mistake me for Doug E. Fresh, the way I sport
With my Slick Rick talk and my Slick walk
I rings like the planet called Saturn
The money's movin' baby your body is the pattern
You know I hide out like it's witness
people start to stare like a model car collection
You know it's like: twenty G's in a Jordan
My came up off the word "freebase"
Man the of a grammy runs through my body structure
My bottom ho cries, 'cause I never say I her
It's a cold word, thats why I
My lawyer is a motherfucker, very naughty
With hot lies, I hit Popeye's for hot
A rap cat, talkin' 'til the sun rise
What's your astrology, and biography
I talk a bit to get you to follow me
I'm the quality, you like the quanity
Fillmore and ain't no apology

[Messy
San Francisco
Fillmo' niggas try'na bring back the 80's,
Wally on my hip, weed in my mouth
Gangsta in the whip, YEEEAAH