Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
my friends

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

300 Bars and
Just loan me ears for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't 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 homies he got
When beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell but a GGG-u not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, your CD shop
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
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 call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
them off, then pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your is boring
Take that off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame doing voice overs
ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help your rhymes
All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't with that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring back
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
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 ***** bootlegging my music, ain't for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So take him out his house, put the beam on his face
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them CD's and
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage like
Bitches only your shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel your just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killa
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Ecko to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a 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 king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop acting before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass '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 *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving he aint the whole cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia 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 shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh white Nike airs and the socks fitted

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

Now me do he got a conscience?
I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Samantha
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like
Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
Chip on my shoulder I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet
re-up like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
the throne, here my black 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 move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
When I the dead, everybody remove hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you got no cash nigga?
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass
Now I gotta lay you down like the last
Buck, buck, buck from my
This playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating
And you don't want that David 'cause you love your
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter
I'ma show 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 you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my Jojo to get it back
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 shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his 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, like I just boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
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, body exhausted, resting in
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A king in the making, and the is for the taking
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can me from taking it over
is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone