Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, in the big shot
Time to do the thing, that's word to wrist watch
Shoot the Glock til it burn, til my wrist
Rims hella big, skinny like Chris Rock
Hold the gun sideways O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his off
Make the girls say my like roll call
Pain killers got a about to doze off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread a picnic nigga
Shake the whole like the hit-stick nigga
Money spread like germs: get nigga
Yea, and them other niggas
who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes help in the river
I don't care if you was Michael Phelps my
I'm higher than the Alps my nigga
I'm than the motherfucking stealth my nigga
Young Money shit, my nigga
We the like MILF my nigga
Ahem, like syringes
Yea I'm in my mode, got a code Da Vinci's
I was in the trenches, now I'm in the
And everybody watch your back when in the front
You ain't safe, stop playing with a gangsta
Bring it to his and he ran like a flanker
Bend the girl over, put her hands on her
I'm all over this ice cream beat like
"Why you", if you's a hater
I'm eating, a waiter
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at your guala, zoom
Young Tune nigga, typhoon
And if you think sweet, buy a room nigga
nigga
I'm on my shit
She give me good brain like she studied at
up a motherfucking blunt
Stupid fruity swag like a motherfucking
And I be with my dog a motherfucker hunting
Every day of the week is the first of the
Audemars Piguet with the diamonds in the
Can't tell the time the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a semi
And if you got I put the biscuit on a patty
Rockstar tatted, big-money
Running this shit, now I'm feeling
I'm on a bitch, getting sea sick
Stop playing, I'm fresher a degree stick
Street shit, well, of course I smoke mad
I'm on my high-horse, don't shoot me down, I land feet flat
Then a million miles with New Orleans on my back
Ha, I need a
And when it to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, just stuntin'
If you ain't the bank teller, don't me nothin'
Kush so you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go like the boy from "300"
You you kick it, well boy we puntin'
Young Money we the shit weak stomachs
No Ceilings