Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took that shit
That was wack like a muthafucka
Don't fuck with

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

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

300 and Runnin
Just loan me your ears for 15
Walk me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them *****z the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
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
hoping I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high will make your breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
about when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop off, then pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
running their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I knew you changed, when you sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your 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
Take that shit off lingo, go to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his
Sound like the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the wrong *****, when you help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The is mine, I treat 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 saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my 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 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 with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
That 380 spill brains, when I pop
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So take him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For off *****z on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killa
My clips bananas, I a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your left with the your ass will sting
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you kept them for yourself
***** stop tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass '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 *****, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he Cube or Pac then who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You 50 Cent, he went out like a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad The Game start buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack 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 wear G-Unit 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 head to the block
Fresh white Nike and the matching socks fitted

the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on 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 down way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm West
Take a look at my chest, a thou at jacob
crew got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they all cars
'cause they heard what went on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now tell me do he got a
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 be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we bonding
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still shine diamonds
They me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm to stop I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
vision, blow a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting with my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I fuck Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now time for payback
It go, how you from but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's 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
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for and went back to the NO
50 you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago
I call my Jojo to get it back
He had the in his hands, and you ain't 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 to find
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run 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, I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it like sheet rock
worry about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You want war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the wait is
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone