Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

Yeah, Ok Im to the left, fla-flag in my right pocket
Star Treck fly, unidentified objects
Extraterrestrial Im all my decimals
Retarded in the booth, they say I got a special
Sicker than average, you rappers is ass backwards
Gudda spit crack, and you is crack addicts
The simple
You cut the and I rake in the green, like Im rakin the grass in
Pretty bitches near feint when they passin
Call my whip but the first name Aston
Potato head niggas get mashed Im spazzin
Think you fucking me put your cash in
Nah I it
I was young and reckless Pete say he was about it
You is Ducks, Howards, Cowards
Kill the competition and shower niggas flowers
rap shit is ours
Gudda, Bitch!

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, back in it
Black menace
Black clothes, Black
semi,
Ive never sat in
That offend me
Try Maybach or
I got stacks, yeah
Paychecks on
And I still want
And I dont play that
I on ASAP
And you dont do shit but get all day
Put shoes on my bullets now they runnin your way
YM Young Mula, Money all day
Where the drugs so sweet, like on yay
Which one of yall say, you drama Im honoured
I blitz your ass, like a lineman
Stack of paychecks, with a bunch of commas
Still red, like a old 49er
Fuck shittin on ya, the whole toilet on ya
Wee-Weezy F Baby bitch, I'm hotter Uganda
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

Ma-Mama aint make me to homies
She made me to history
So doing thats my activity
boy, and the Target is the Industry
Two things I in the World, Good Head and Victory
You aint doing it big and stop kidding me
Your whip aint up to date, and your look like Mr. T
This is Misery, no Cathy
Come at me sideways, my slap ya straight
Yeah, Im a Big so you know I smash your ace
Leave the club with ya girl, send her with an ashy face
is a gamble, but its my casino
Pretend that your the loser, I hope that she got
I hope the game got insurance cause Ima kill it
And all you wack ass rap niggas with it
Im so harlem, eating but still
fat as fuck, like all they do is eat margarine
Millz!

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
Crank up the
Burn the song from a
Its finger hot
His pitch flip cause the nigga
My shit hit, the pitch was soft
cotton balled
She dropped drawers she poppin off
Her pussy cross guard, but, I dont at all
I in the car, like fuck the fucking law
I bet daddy gone, who wanna make it
The shit that we up on
Shittin on em hay in the barn
Hey wait say money talks
And, man you speak at all
You shop at
My style two thumbs up, like analogues
I shit, for the recognition bitch
as my witness, say envision
I bore you flame flicker
I pictures
skin aint drippin