Luyện nghe bài hát Throwed Off

[Gudda
Yeah,
Ok, I walk up in the Louie-Louies with the cherry bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm a Halle Berry body
You what I do, I, g-get straight to the moolah
Wrist wear frigid and my watch is a Muller
I'm reppin' young moolah, [x2], I
Remember when I used to stuff my paper in my box
Now I got two accounts with money stacks and large amounts
What the fuck you niggas talkin' bout, cause we ain't tryin' it out
Pistol hangin' out my jeans, it a thing, let's talk it out
Let that chopper to sing and let it ring and then I'm out
Yeah, you know what I'm sippin', purple got me
Scoop your chicken up and let her lick me like a
I'm on Beach chillin' and I'm tryin' to fuck every hottie
Get her to the and make her fuck everybody
You know the team, it's Young Money everybody
In the rap game, so it's fuck

Wayne:]
Married to the mob, bury you
My girl pussy feel heaven to a God
And I came in bitch with my niggas
Kidnap the baby and the fuckin' babysitter,
I be doin' me, don't give a fuck bout what you
Blood bitch, big B's, Boston Bruins
I could do this shit, closed, nothin' to it
fuck your body up, they ain't even tryna view it
I go tough, I go
your pussy ass and everyone you in cahoots with
Fuck you a pool stick
you swallow two dicks
Fuckin' right, we
We watched too many movies
Then smoked too doobies
Murk you out, deuces
We don't know truce is
That bullet proof vest so
red like bruises
Shoot ya head with uzis
I swear, honor, I ain't a dealer, I'm a user, ya dig
I load up the sig, it at ya wig
Pull over on the highway, you off the bridge
We don't a fuck, and we ain't never did
Shit, three words you never hear, let him
I'm in my own zone, it got me off
I break these bitches down, I these hoes off
Lil Tunechi is my name, I got Gudda on the
Public apology, sorry for the