Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever I woke up this morning, I've been on
Twist the cap up off my weed jar, and a cone
Took a shower and got in the wind, like Steve Wynn
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
Packin' and totin' and 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 like Flynt
Getting money's my habit, I in the traffic
Papered up a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I walked in a loser, mayne I'm gonna walk out a
I ball like a hooper man, up like a printer
I ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm
Mental health, with my conscience cursin' out myself
My got a psychologist, neurologist too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

Act you know
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

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

and blowing on some good bud
Smokin' on a strain you never of
Exclusive shit, I got it from my
You drop my on my rug
That's twenty pushups, a party foul
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I allow (who?)
Aliens me, that's a no-no
They'll try to me and turn my brains into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best E-40 with his .45 Glock
I'm ADHD, need something to calm my
You libel to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' like
I stay plastered, but I'm all about my
Liquor aroma, me in the elevator
More whips than Auto Trader, what I got
Driveway, looks a car lot
My is stronger than my bark
you thought, heart
Bitch you full of shit a dog park
Mark ass poodle, as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real one's
While these sideline niggas be always trying to count a hustler's
their lizznips like some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running their mouth that, we call 'em quack-quacks
how a bitch gets smack-smacked
Shot in the naps,
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't even 'em back (bitch)

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

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

...to the