Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama me to Sam Goody's
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took shit home
That shit was wack a muthafucka
Don't with Game

I 50 Cent
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 there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Lloyd and Young Buck CD
that shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was to be on some radio Raheim shit
Man shit sound like some Vanessa Williams '88
I mean Olivia cute but they say bitch a man
So this Black Wallstreet for now
GGG-UNOT!

300 Bars and
Just me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, your ears a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I the cops
So they wouldn't get the start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I you on the spot
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we lonely we pop
You sell records but a 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
hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out before you see the
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Block
What i got in my high tops make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed on it, then loosened the strap
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 call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him that is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's about when the clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's 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 foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the with plans of getting me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z collect calls
a faggot ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make beef mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the beginning not to trust those
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This ***** my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
'cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can in L.A.
For off *****z on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
They'll stab you at Folsom then fuck you on
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the
So he me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
***** acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots from the empty the rest 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 hurse on and traffic, what
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you about who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You 50 Cent, he went 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 to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
Came in the and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to 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 drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
'cause I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the
Similar to them going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned 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 West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me 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 ain't common, it's more Top Ramen
The is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still like diamonds
kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's Aftermath, two feet in the paint 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 shoulder like I'm outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a thou like my wallet missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know which hole to up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
Kept your shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down 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, it's when I'm Harry-O
And you don't that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and your little flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
that, I thought 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 I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat
Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga Reebocks
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You want war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy ever to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
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 me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone