Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I like 50
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Blues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
my friends

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

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

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I go back 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 can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't we pop
You records but a GGG-u not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm Cedar Block
i got in my high tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't 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 leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then pop cristal wit
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
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 airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help with rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
he'd 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 Busta
I from the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and
And I beef with any *****, say my muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking 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
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma take him out his house, put the on his face
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will 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 that G-Unit use every 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the gotta ask for his strings
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the of the hour 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 kept them for yourself
***** stop acting tough before I stand you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
cops on my left, but I pass '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 this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the whole cake,
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You 50 Cent, he went 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 Candy
C'mon man, what happened to the
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh white airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So can put me in the squad car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
they heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now tell me do he got a
I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now that common, it's more 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 like Rodman
It's Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting money my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, you ASAP
They won't know which hole to up, when the K clap
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm Harry-O
And you want that David '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 were on Tha Row
left you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy 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 out of breath, like I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down sheet rock
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
in store 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 yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone