Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

Yeah, Ok Im leanin to the left, in my right pocket
Star Treck fly, unidentified objects
Extraterrestrial Im all about my
Retarded in the booth, say I got a special flow
Sicker than average, you rappers is ass backwards
spit crack, and you niggas is crack addicts
The Mathematics
You cut the check and I in the green, like Im rakin the grass in
Pretty bitches damn near when they passin
my whip Martin but the first name Aston
Potato head niggas get mashed Im spazzin
Think you fucking with me put cash in
Nah I it
I was young and reckless Pete say he was about it
You niggas is Ducks, Howards,
Kill the competition and shower niggas with
rap shit is ours
Gudda, Bitch!

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, back in it
Hollygrove Black
Black clothes, Black
semi,
Ive sat in Hemi
would offend me
Try or Maybach
Bitch I got stacks,
Paychecks on
And I still want
And I still dont that
I on ASAP
And you dont do but get money all day
Put some shoes on my bullets now they runnin way
YM Young Mula, Young all day
Where the drugs so sweet, honey on yay
Which one of yall say, you drama Im honoured
I blitz your ass, like a lineman
Stack of paychecks, with a whole bunch of
wear red, like a old 49er
Fuck shittin on ya, dump the whole on ya
F Baby bitch, I'm hotter than Uganda
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

Ma-Mama aint make me to homies
She made me to make
So doing thats my Extra-curicular
Bulldozer boy, and the is the Industry
Two things I Love in the World, Good and Victory
You aint doing it big and broke kidding me
Your whip aint up to date, and hoes look like Mr. T
is Misery, no Cathy Bates
Come at me sideways, my slap ya straight
Yeah, Im a Big Joker so you know I smash ace
Leave the club with ya girl, send her home with an face
is a gamble, but its my casino
Pretend that your the loser, I hope she got aveno
I the game got life insurance cause Ima kill it
And all you wack ass rap dying with it
Im so harlem, eating but starving
fat as fuck, like all they do is eat margarine
Millz!

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
up the notch
Burn the song a Stove-Top
Its finger hot
His flip cause the nigga flop
My hit, like the pitch was soft
cotton balled
She drawers cause she poppin off
Her pussy cross guard, but, I stop at all
I in the car, like fuck the fucking law
I bet daddy gone, who make it done
The shit that we up on
on em like hay in the barn
Hey wait say money talks
And, man you dont at all
You shop at
My style two thumbs up, like analogues
I wreck shit, for the bitch
Jesus as my witness, say
I bore you flame flicker
I pictures
Tyga skin aint