Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

Yeah, Ok Im to the left, fla-flag in my right pocket
Star fly, unidentified flying objects
Extraterrestrial Im all about my
Retarded in the booth, they say I got a special
Sicker than your average, you rappers is ass
Gudda spit crack, and you niggas is addicts
The simple
You cut the check and I rake in the green, like Im rakin the in
Pretty bitches damn near feint when passin
Call my Martin but the first name Aston
Potato head niggas get when Im spazzin
Think you fucking me put your cash in
Nah I it
I was young and reckless when Pete say he was it
You is Ducks, Howards, Cowards
Kill the competition and shower with flowers
This rap shit is
Gudda, Bitch!

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, back in it
Hollygrove menace
Black clothes, Black
semi,
Ive never sat in
That would me
Try or Maybach
I got stacks, yeah
Paychecks on
And I want payback
And I still dont that
I kill on
And you do shit but get money all day
Put some on my bullets now they runnin your way
YM Mula, Young Money all day
Where the drugs so sweet, honey on yay
Which one of yall say, you want Im honoured
I blitz your ass, like a lineman
of paychecks, with a whole bunch of commas
Still wear red, like a old
Fuck on ya, dump the whole toilet on ya
Wee-Weezy F bitch, I'm hotter than Uganda
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

Ma-Mama aint make me to make
She made me to make
So doing thats my activity
boy, and the Target is the Industry
Two things I Love in the World, Head and Victory
You aint doing it big and broke kidding me
Your aint up to date, and your hoes look like Mr. T
This is Misery, no Cathy
Come at me sideways, my money'll slap ya
Yeah, Im a Big Joker so you know I smash ace
Leave the club with ya girl, send her with an ashy face
is a gamble, but its my casino
Pretend that your the loser, I hope she got aveno
I hope the game got life cause Ima kill it
And all you ass rap niggas dying with it
Im so harlem, eating but starving
Pockets fat as fuck, all they do is eat margarine
Millz!

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
Crank up the
Burn the from a Stove-Top
Its finger hot
His pitch flip cause the nigga
My hit, like the pitch was soft
Niggas cotton
She dropped cause she poppin off
Her pussy guard, but, I dont stop at all
I smash in the car, like fuck the law
I bet daddy gone, who make it done
The shit that we up on
Shittin on em like hay in the
Hey wait they say talks
And, man you dont at all
You at mini-malls
My style two thumbs up, using analogues
I shit, for the recognition bitch
as my witness, say envision
I bore you niggas flicker
I melt
Tyga aint drippin