Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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

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

300 Bars and
Just loan me your for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, your ears a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take 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 him a concert in Madison square
everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
What you Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies you wrapped in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely 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 I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, the bleeding stop
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
i got in my high tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check CD shop
I'm like in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Aftermath on it, then loosened 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 up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
them off, then 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, is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that 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 repeat me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing overs
ass ***** need 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 with rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make 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 with your mom, and you ain't fucked that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust those
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more than
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon
I told Funk Flex I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that chain
That 380 brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off on them CD's and tapes
Ask to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing
Bitches only feel your shit a lil bit
*****z only feel your shit a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
on two songs, now back 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
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy like Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, never air max for the pen
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then 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 leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop acting tough before I over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm your ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York 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 talkin about who you
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on daytons, I was the first one with it
Four times platinum, I done been and did it
Came in the game and shitted, wiped my ass with it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
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 waiting on Jayceon to make a
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 ain't no Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
'cause I'm a ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou at
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 willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When Game in the house, they all cars
'cause heard about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
happened to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the of my prada denim
Chip on my like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting money 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 ain't gon' do that so muthafucka move
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations 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 gotta strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know hole to patch up, when the K clap
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you 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 the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your flow
Then he made you temporary replacement for
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga to get it back
He had the in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his 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 sheet rock
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
first 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, in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever 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 weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone