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 gone in the wind, like Steve
I'm from the streets of California we be hustlin and grittin'
Gettin' that women, mobbin' and mackin', and stackin'
Wheelin' and dealin' and a killin' trying to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in front of the building
and totin' and toast the lean oh what a feelin'
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 Larry Flynt
Getting my habit, I stay in the traffic
up like a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I walked in a loser, mayne I'm walk out a winner
I ball a hooper man, papered up like a printer
I wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm throwed
Mental health, argue with my cursin' out myself
My got a psychologist, neurologist too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

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

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

Drinking and on some good bud
Smokin' on a strain you heard of
Exclusive shit, I got it my plugs
You drop my on my rug
twenty pushups, that's a party foul
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I allow (who?)
Aliens around me, that's a
They'll try to sneak me and my brains into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 with his .45
I'm ADHD, something to calm my nerves
You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' herb
I plastered, but I'm all about my paper
Liquor aroma, me in the elevator
More than Auto Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, like a car lot
My bite is stronger than my
Thought you thought,
you full of shit like a dog park
Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real one's
While these niggas be always trying to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' lizznips like some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be their mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks
That's how a bitch gets
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat even bring 'em back (bitch)

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
to get my paper right, my nigga
Stack it to the

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

...to the