Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer
my friends

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

300 and Runnin
loan me your 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 than Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you call this a diss, and you 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, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the
Nah, let Bleek do it, then him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he 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 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
Stop hoping I fall, hope the stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
i got in my high tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
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 *****z Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who comes
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
a faggot ***** wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the 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 airing ass out on DVD
You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't make your beef mine
You got lucky Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said he'd put you your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 brains, when I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage like
Bitches only feel your shit a lil bit
*****z only feel your just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a 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 left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes 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
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The
Make a move I'm your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the empty the rest in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 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 like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on with the Jake *****?
Got his crew 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks
***** got mad when The Game start
So making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking 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 your G-Unit shoes
want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh white Nike and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on daytons, I was the first one with it
times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
They say the givth, if Lord take it away
So I a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and lock me
me a odd job in the pen for minimum 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
Similar to them going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them 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 diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
When Game in the house, callin all cars
'cause they heard about what 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 conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I like Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta
vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting money my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta 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 you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
Kept your shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went 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 call my Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
Picture that, I thought we was
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
his panties drop, when 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 sheet
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, no getting me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So give 'em the peace, (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 cannot 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me 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