Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took shit home
That shit was wack a muthafucka
Don't with Game

I 50 Cent
He me Spongebob
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
They're my

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

300 Bars and
Just loan me ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll '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, the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a take shots to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What they say? is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See *****z with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, I heard that he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1
Ask 50, it get on top
You can me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't High Top Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they believe he dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to when Dre producing a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Jadakiss, tell him that duke is back
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
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 left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, then pop wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I knew you changed, when you started in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, career is
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help your rhymes
All he tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about 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 Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This ***** my music, ain't nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like
blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the gotta ask for his strings
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the your ass will sting
And your cell mate is a 25 to
They'll stab you at Folsom fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
***** stop acting tough before I stand you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
Throw in and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's fake *****, 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 Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into throwing
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your shoes
want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
So I a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to a mistake
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
'cause I'm a cold when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, 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 Samantha
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
finger in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the
happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
Dollar vision, a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
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 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, 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, like I just boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like rock
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You want war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone