Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, in the big shot
Time to do the thing, that's word to your wrist
Shoot the Glock til it burn, til my lock
Rims hella big, tires skinny like Rock
Hold the gun sideways O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his off
Make the girls say my name like roll
Pain killers got a nigga about to off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread like a picnic
Shake the whole game like the hit-stick
spread like germs: get sick nigga
Yea, and fuck other niggas
1-900: who it? I deliver
Concrete shoes won't in the river
I don't if you was Michael Phelps my nigga
I'm higher than the motherfucking Alps my
I'm flyer the motherfucking stealth my nigga
Money shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the like MILF my nigga
Ahem, flow syringes
Yea I'm in my mode, got a like Da Vinci's
I was in the trenches, now I'm in the
And everybody watch your back you're in the front
You ain't never safe, stop with a gangsta
Bring it to his face and he ran a flanker
the girl over, put her hands on her ankles
I'm all this ice cream beat like sprinkles
"Why you", if you's a hater
I'm eating, you's a
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at guala, zoom later
Young Tune nigga, nigga
And if you you're sweet, buy a room nigga
Damu
I'm on my shit
She give me good brain like she studied at
up a motherfucking blunt
Stupid swag like a motherfucking runt
And I be with my dog like a motherfucker
Every day of the is the first of the month
Audemars Piguet with the diamonds in the
Can't the time cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a automatic
And if you got beef I put the biscuit on a
Rockstar tatted, addict
this shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a boat bitch, sea sick
playing, I'm fresher then a degree stick
Street shit, well, of I smoke mad weed
I'm on my high-horse, don't shoot me down, I land feet flat
walk a million miles with New Orleans on my back
Ha, I need a
And when it comes to hoes, man, I got a
on the button, nigga just stuntin'
If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me
Kush so you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go hard like the boy "300"
You think you it, well boy we puntin'
Young baby we the shit weak stomachs
No Ceilings