Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

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

Act you know
and bobbin' and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Act you know
Dippin' and bobbin' and
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
Stack it to the

and blowing on some good bud
Smokin' on a strain you heard of
shit, I got it from my plugs
You drop my on my rug
That's twenty pushups, a party foul
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I don't (who?)
Aliens me, that's a no-no
They'll try to sneak me and my brains into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 his .45 Glock
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
aroma, that's me in the elevator
More whips than Auto Trader, what I got
Driveway, like a car lot
My is stronger than my bark
you thought, heart
Bitch you of shit like a dog park
Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a one's business?
these sideline niggas be always trying to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their like some bitches, man they saps
be running their mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks
That's how a gets smack-smacked
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, can't even bring 'em back (bitch)

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

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

...to the