Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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

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

300 and Runnin
Just loan me your for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, your ears a little closer
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah standing his
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What say? Bleek is over 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 *****z with the soonies leave you 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 wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was Ready To Die, when I that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put on the block
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 the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't 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
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Block
What i got in my high tops will your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop off, then pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
*****z running mouth about what the fuck 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 behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, 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 rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On street doing voice overs
ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines
the wrong *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make 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 fucked with
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask that
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like 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 home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre 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 if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So take him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
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 your 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 kill a gorilla
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like
Banks blacked out and let the gun without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
***** acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 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 like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We getting tired of you talkin who you shot
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what happened to the
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm
'cause I don't 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 wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks

the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away
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 to make a mistake
So can put me in the squad car and lock me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah ain't no subliminal Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'cause I'm a ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Bronson
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine diamonds
They me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two 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 keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
re-up like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting money with my up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I said fuck and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for
It go, how you from Cashville but you got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love your
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter
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 and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the bus and felt your little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
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, I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
Don't 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, no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you 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 boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy ever to return, I remain Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne 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 bitch can stop me from taking it over
is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone