Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Banks is Dora the Explorer
They're my

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

300 and Runnin
Just loan me your for 15 minutes
with me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova unless he
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, the speaker, bring your ears a little closer
Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then hand me the
Nah, let do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let Chris and do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the soonies you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the 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 heard he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I you on the spot
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel 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
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't 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 I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I you black out before you see the cops
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make your stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z Dre producing a track
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
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, pop cristal 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, is kinda foolish see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, 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 lingo, go back to PC
And 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help with your
All he tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the beginning not to trust cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from Houston but you can it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, 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
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them 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 your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D 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 the Aryans your ass will sting
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the of the hour who lied and said 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 for yourself
***** acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting ass to the last one
Ten shots from the empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
Throw in and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop 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, New York cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making friends now I'm throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho like I'm
'cause I 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 wanna be in group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the socks fitted

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

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner Common
Now that ain't common, it's more Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
Chip on my shoulder I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my missing
Then re-up like kid the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
When I the dead, everybody remove hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, you ASAP
They won't know which to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now time for payback
It go, how you Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's fucking ass nigga
Kept your shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you love your
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your flow
Then he made you temporary for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you ain't had the ten
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
Then you ran and told 50 that I did shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his drop, when I run inside the Candy 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 down like rock
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, fuck Reebocks
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
first 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 want war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you 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 top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone