Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I 50 Cent
He me Spongebob
And Tony Yayo is Clues
And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer
They're my

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

300 Bars and
loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make Hova
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them *****z with the soonies leave you in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I my cheese stake, that's what 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 heard that he was
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only he got
it's beef 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, hope the bleeding
And I hope you black out before you see the
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring to *****z when Dre producing a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it 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 Let's go
Drop them off, then pop 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, beef is kinda see
*****z running their mouth what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
Even behind bars, I'm still shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, your is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing voice
ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
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 wrong *****, when you need with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna your beef mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you with mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask 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 it like home
It's the reason 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 it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can chop it and it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and
And I beef any *****, say my name 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 told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., 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 him out his house, put the beam 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 on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on singing like
Bitches only feel your just a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a 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 your left with the Aryans your ass will
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and he write my songs
He Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
***** stop acting tough before I stand you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the 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 I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he ain't 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 ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't be in your group
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, they want Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the squad car and me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
'cause I'm a cold ***** I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he them into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
a look at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
Game in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about what on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina on the corner like Common
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a thou like my wallet missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, you ASAP
They won't which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the last
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing with his life, I might to put him in heaven
play the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love your
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the bus and felt your little flow
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
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 shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the 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 like sheet rock
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone