Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

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

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

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

[The
300 and Runnin
loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take shots to back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I forgot my stake, that's what I told the cops
So they get the dogs start searching for the glock
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? Beef is I murk you on the spot
signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or me, but now the cops the only homies he got
it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a 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, the bleeding stop
And I you black out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that make your breathing
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to niggaz when Dre producing a
Take it to the streets, put the 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
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ?? clap, is back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
We got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop them off, then the sound like
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that dog
I don't 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect calls
1-800-split a nigga 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, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
that shit off ??, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass nigga need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the wrong nigga, you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you with mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the beginning I trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason niggaz my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, nigga is more than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both ?? in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I with any nigga, say my name motherfuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the nigga Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This nigga my music, ain't nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing
only for your shit just a lil bit
Niggaz for your shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
Take my advice, never air max for the ??
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
will stab you then ?? then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
Nigga stop tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this fake nigga, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he ain't the cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you about who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the nigga wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
Nigga got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
I'll smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks

Pull the brim low, if don't get it
Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, wiped my ass with it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll wait for the day
Niggaz hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
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 no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
I'm a cold nigga when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a thou wet jacob
crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the thing I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When in the house, they call ??
'cause they heard what went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50
Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner Common
Now that ain't common, it's more like Top
The flow is news, I throw it up like
And I shine like diamonds
They me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the hood politican, ??
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
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 motherfucker move
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss y'all, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
won't know which hole to patch up, when the ?? clap
I to spare 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 your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out knifes
Muthafucker I'ma show you who the
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't hard to
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want beef?
Now motherfucker, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone...