Luyện nghe bài hát I Really Mean It

You see man, let's get off of that man
Let's get what we like to do man
This what we do man
We bring that music to your table man
Killa, let em something

Young Guru, Blaze, Killa, Diplomats, huh
Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Zekey
Hoffa, Dash, huh, Killa, huh

Ya'll niggas it, I have seen it
Body warm, anemic
(I mean it)
Coke, a nigga steamed it, fiends I em
leaned it
(I mean it)

Guns, really beaming, miss, what's really good?
Bikes, wheelie and
(I mean it)
I'm a genius, poppadopalis, never
On Zenith
(I really it)

Killa, bury mutts, they actually all ducks
Caddy more trucks, it's daddy
And you Annie, ma, take off your panties
Sea soft and
(I really it)

Yeah, let's get in candy
I got in Boston, Austin
of course Miami
Reno, Nevada sip pina

Mama I'm on the Prada
(I really it)
I rock more in Phoenix road to
it, you seen it
(I mean it)

The game abuse it, it's pain in
But this year, wrist remains the bluest
I get lame and lose it, beef to do it
Aim and shoot it, til your brains the fluid
Ya'll just kids, see I just did, take a couple bars off
Let Just live

Yeah, now powerful music man
You need to pop something and something
(I mean it)
we did it man, I got your back forever, Dip Set
(I mean it)

And them lames, we pop them
And drag them
(I really it)
Okay, we back in, listen
(I mean it)
Hey yo my garage, rock my massage
it, bucket by Osh Kosh Bgosh

Golly, I'm gully, at his galoshes
Gucci, gold, plaque collages
From collabos, writing for assholes
to use my brain, than give Killa mad dough

It's all good, increase cash flow
Increase my fame, why Killa smash hoes
You'll get side swiped, at my life
movie ever, merked out Mekhi Phife

And got jerked out of pies twice
Dip Set, we working with five
Cee-lo and craps, C-notes and
I send bodies with, read this attached

Ya fucked with boys in the hood
Gave her a son like Ricky, Boyz in the Hood'
On the couch bloody, old sighing
Wifey
(I mean it)

Pissy little crying
Fuck upped man shit, you seen it
(I really it)
Fam man, you terry cloth, that mean you soft
Gravy Mercedes, add the cranberry

Yeah, ride man
we got you, guns up
(I really it)
And all my ladies man, the a diddy
I need you, I you
(I really it)

Oh, pop something, roll
Get twisted, on Jim nigga
(I mean it)
Harlem! Man we to stay
It's left to say man
(I mean it)

Eastside, and as for lame man
Now see I even gone say your last name
'Cause that's mine, I catch you, you know it is
You faggot!

I ain't get to hyped over you man
We bury you, holla!
See if you bout it, it
we is
(I really it)
NYC!