Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever since I up this morning, I've been on
Twist the cap up off my jar, and smoked a cone
Took a shower and got in the wind, like Steve Wynn
I'm from the streets of where we be hustlin and grittin'
Gettin' that women, and mackin', droppin' and stackin'
Wheelin' and dealin' and makin' a trying to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in front of the building
Packin' and and toast the lean oh what a feelin'
a fraudulent, I'm immaculate
He a simp, he a sap, he
I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a hundred
I'm a hustler Larry Flynt
Getting money's my habit, I in the traffic
up like a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I walked in a loser, I'm gonna walk out a winner
I like a hooper man, papered up like a printer
I wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm throwed
Mental health, with my conscience cursin' out myself
My psychologist got a psychologist, too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

Act like you
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the to the evening
Trying to get my right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Act like you
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
Trying to get my right, my nigga
it to the ceiling

Drinking and blowing on some bud
Smokin' on a strain you never of
Exclusive shit, I got it my plugs
You my weed on my rug
That's pushups, that's a party foul
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I allow (who?)
around me, that's a no-no
They'll try to sneak me and turn my brains into
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 with his .45
I'm ADHD, need to calm my nerves
You libel to find me at my teacher's meeting smellin' like herb
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
Liquor aroma, me in the elevator
More whips than Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, looks a car lot
My bite is stronger than my
Thought you thought,
Bitch you full of like a dog park
Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real one's
While these sideline be always trying to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their lizznips like bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running their mouth like that, we 'em quack-quacks
That's how a gets smack-smacked
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even bring 'em (bitch)

Act like you
Dippin' and bobbin and
In and out of traffic, from the to the evening
to get my paper right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Act you know
Dippin' and bobbin and
In and out of traffic, from the to the evening
Trying to get my right, my nigga
it to the ceiling

...to the