Luyện nghe bài hát Throwed Off

[Gudda
Yeah,
Ok, I walk up in the Louie-Louies with the cherry bottoms
Bad bitch on my arm a Halle Berry body
You know what I do, I, g-get straight to the
Wrist wear frigid and my is a Franck Muller
I'm reppin' moolah, Gudda [x2], I
Remember I used to stuff my paper in my shoe box
Now I got two large accounts with money stacks and large
What the fuck you niggas talkin' bout, we ain't tryin' talk it out
Pistol out my jeans, it ain't a thing, let's talk it out
Let that chopper start to sing and let it ring and I'm out
Yeah, you know what I'm sippin', got me trippin'
your chicken up and let her lick me like a lizard
I'm on South Beach and I'm tryin' to fuck every hottie
Get her to the crib and her fuck everybody
You know the team, it's Young Money everybody
In the rap game, so it's everybody

[Lil
to the mob, bury you alive
My girl feel like heaven to a God
And I came in this with my niggas
the baby and the fuckin' babysitter, yeah
I be doin' me, give a fuck bout what you doin'
Blood gang bitch, big B's, Boston
I could do this shit, closed, nothin' to it
Bullets fuck your body up, they ain't even tryna it
I go tough, I go
Murk your pussy ass and everyone you in with
Fuck you with a pool
Make you two dicks
Fuckin' right, we
We done watched too movies
Then too many doobies
Murk you out, then
We don't know truce is
That proof vest so useless
red like bruises
Shoot ya head them uzis
I swear, honor, I ain't a dealer, I'm a user, ya dig
I up the sig, point it at ya wig
Pull on the highway, throw you off the bridge
We don't give a fuck, and we never did
Shit, three words you hear, let him live
I'm in my own zone, it got me off
I break these down, I break these hoes off
Lil is my name, I got Gudda on the tape
apology, sorry for the wait