Luyện nghe bài hát Throwed Off

[Gudda
Yeah,
Ok, I up in the club Louie-Louies with the cherry bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm with a Halle Berry
You know I do, I, g-get straight to the moolah
wear frigid and my watch is a Franck Muller
I'm young moolah, Gudda [x2], I
Remember I used to stuff my paper in my shoe box
Now I got two accounts with money stacks and large amounts
What the fuck you niggas talkin' bout, cause we ain't tryin' it out
Pistol hangin' out my jeans, it a thing, let's talk it out
Let that chopper start to and let it ring and then I'm out
Yeah, you know what I'm sippin', purple got me
Scoop your chicken up and let her lick me a lizard
I'm on South Beach chillin' and I'm tryin' to fuck every
Get her to the crib and make her fuck
You know the team, it's Money over everybody
In the rap game, so it's everybody

[Lil
Married to the mob, you alive
My girl feel like heaven to a God
And I came in this bitch my niggas
the baby and the fuckin' babysitter, yeah
I be doin' me, don't give a fuck bout you doin'
Blood bitch, big B's, Boston Bruins
I could do this shit, closed, nothin' to it
Bullets fuck your body up, they ain't even view it
I go tough, I go
Murk your ass and everyone you in cahoots with
Fuck you with a pool
Make you swallow two
right, we ruthless
We done watched too many
Then too many doobies
Murk you out, then
We don't know what is
bullet proof vest so useless
Flag red bruises
Shoot ya with them uzis
I swear, honor, I ain't a dealer, I'm a user, ya dig
I load up the sig, it at ya wig
Pull over on the highway, you off the bridge
We don't give a fuck, and we ain't did
Shit, three you never hear, let him live
I'm in my own zone, it got me off
I break these bitches down, I break these off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got on the tape
apology, sorry for the wait