Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Tony Yayo is Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
my friends

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

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

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring your a little closer
you call this 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 back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them *****z with the soonies you wrapped in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? Curtis Jack in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the
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 that he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
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 love me, but now the cops the homies he got
it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell 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 hoping I fall, hope the stop
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
What i got in my tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring to *****z when 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, tell him duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, then pop cristal wit
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 running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm gon' shine
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z 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 NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines
That's the *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring back
The underground is mine, I treat it 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 like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We see if he know 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 Shadyville chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This bootlegging 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
Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them 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 name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on singing like
Bitches only feel your shit a lil bit
*****z only feel your shit a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through waters like Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the gotta ask for his strings
Take my advice, wear 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 your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then fuck you on
And Goes On
Now back to the of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf
So he me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots from the Mack the rest in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The Dodge got a in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting of you talkin 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 went out with Vivica, three after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh white airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away
So I build a on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the 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 ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only thing I got spinning is
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about what on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be 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 on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still like diamonds
kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the hood politican, Impala
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K
I tried to you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm Harry-O
And you don't that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he out butter knifes
Muthafucka show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little
Then he made you temporary replacement for
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it like sheet rock
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, 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, no getting me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember 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 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot '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 soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone