Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

[50
Yeah, I like the way this
This me wanna just (G-G-G-G, G-Unit!)
Buck somethin, (G-UNIT!)

50 Cent]
Nigga you on me, I shit on you
You put a hit on me, I put a hit on you
An eye for an eye
Survive the or die nigga

Get 'em Banks!

[Verse One: Lloyd Banks -
They hold me
I'm Banks the one and on-ly
Not buddy, not your pal, not your ho-mey
But ain't a government around that can me
Oh no!!!

Uhh, I'm on "Doggystyle" shit, man I don't love a ho
Poppa wasn't 'round, so I had to let my know
Never at center, play the back and let your money grow
them niggas wouldn't be around if you was bummy yo
Southside Jamaica neighbor yeah that's where I from
If you see a nigga with me then there's more one gun
Fly straight soldier, tired of bein the dumb one
Or are you satisfied bein nigga's Dun-Dunn
We all know turnin sour when you gettin it
Some niggas hate me in the hood, but I don't owe them niggas
Smilin all up my face like I know them niggas sick
But I can care less, I'm on the Island and I'm rich

[Verse Two: Buck]
Walk it and it, spit it how I live it nigga
from the country, Dirty South get it nigga
Feds try and question me, they run up in my
said there was a shootin, but they found no shells
New York City hell they throwin niggas under
I got love for dem and I ain't from dere
Now bust a for dem boys on da block
I can your pain nigga, I'm still in the game nigga
There's bout the sound of a trey-pound
make me pull up, hop out, and make a nigga lay down
See every time we 'round, you hear some go off
And get they chains snatched when they tryin to show off
Shootouts in day, we do it the mob way
And to find out, these niggas softer than Sade'
I'mma keep livin my with a pistol in my palm
And a wrist of ice, you can call me a Don motherfucker

singing]
We got the
So one wrong move and you're dy-ing
Ain't no time for coppin a and cry-ing
Cause my niggas ain't gon' ridin'
So you

[Verse Three: 50
I got a handgun habit, nigga front let you have it
When the shots go off, sayin 50 back at it
I'm allergic to the feathers on these bird-ass (yea)
Front and put your brains on that curb fast nigga
I ain't a marksman, one and I spray shit
Nuff rounds from that H-K, I play bitch (uh-huh)
Move like I'm militant, back on that gorilla
Moody, disrespectful, unruly, but can't move me (yea)
I squeeze I run out of ammo, if it's a problem it's handled
I have your people pourin our liquor and lightin
You fuck around I your brains on my New York Times
Run home, to the sports section and read your mind
It's clear, you should feel when that gat bust
First crime scene tape, then you end up in that black hearse
We don't go to funerals, but we'll go to your fam
Do body all banged up, you made a mistake man