Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took that shit
shit was wack like a muthafucka
Don't fuck with

I like 50
He me Spongebob
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
They're my

I went down one of them Bodaga shits right there in
Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Buck CD
that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was bout to be on some radio shit
Man that shit sound like some Vanessa '88
I mean Olivia cute but they say bitch a man
So this Black for life now
GGG-UNOT!

300 and Runnin
Just loan me ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy
Oh, that boy than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a take shots to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the
Nah, let do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies you wrapped in Philly
Then in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I forgot my stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only he got
When beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You records but a GGG-u not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, the bleeding stop
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make your breathing
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the
It get hot in here, let rap
hell to *****z when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, then pop wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go back, ***** I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the of New York, your sixteens is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines
like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you lied about pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them shits sell out a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods get ya for that Shadyville chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the gotta ask for his strings
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the
So he gave me all his hits, you kept them for yourself
***** stop acting tough before I over you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin about who you
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'cause I'm a cold ***** I put the pen to the page
Similar to them going into my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the thing I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they callin all
'cause they heard about went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, be at this conference
I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now that common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still shine diamonds
kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting money my feet up
the throne, here my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and your little flow
Then he made you temporary for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
Take one shot of and pop
his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down sheet rock
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone