Luyện nghe bài hát Smoke 50 Cent

[50
Yeah, I the way this feel
This make me 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
the shots or die nigga

Get 'em Banks!

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

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

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

[Interlude:
We got the
So make one wrong move and you're
Ain't no for coppin a plea and cry-ing
Cause my niggas ain't gon' stop
So you

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