Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

Yeah, Ok Im leanin to the left, fla-flag in my right
Treck fly, unidentified flying objects
Extraterrestrial Im all about my
Retarded in the booth, they say I got a flow
than your average, you rappers is ass backwards
Gudda spit crack, and you is crack addicts
The Mathematics
You cut the check and I in the green, like Im rakin the grass in
Pretty bitches near feint when they passin
Call my whip but the first name Aston
Potato head niggas get when Im spazzin
Think you fucking me put your cash in
Nah I it
I was young and reckless when Pete say he was it
You is Ducks, Howards, Cowards
Kill the and shower niggas with flowers
This rap is ours
Gudda, Bitch!

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, back in it
Hollygrove Black
clothes, Black tennis
semi,
Ive never sat in
That offend me
Try Maybach or
Bitch I got stacks,
on Paychecks
And I want payback
And I still dont play
I kill on
And you dont do but get money all day
Put shoes on my bullets now they runnin your way
YM Young Mula, Money all day
Where the drugs so sweet, like on yay
one of yall say, you want drama Im honoured
I blitz your ass, like a muthaficking
Stack of paychecks, a whole bunch of commas
Still wear red, like a old
Fuck on ya, dump the whole toilet on ya
Wee-Weezy F Baby bitch, I'm hotter than
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

Ma-Mama aint make me to homies
She made me to history
So thats my Extra-curicular activity
boy, and the Target is the Industry
Two I Love in the World, Good Head and Victory
You aint it big and broke stop kidding me
whip aint up to date, and your hoes look like Mr. T
This is Misery, no Cathy
at me sideways, my money'll slap ya straight
Yeah, Im a Big Joker so you know I smash ace
the club with ya girl, send her home with an ashy face
Love is a gamble, but its my
Pretend your the loser, I hope that she got aveno
I hope the got life insurance cause Ima kill it
And all you wack ass rap niggas with it
Im so harlem, but still starving
Pockets fat as fuck, all they do is eat margarine
Millz!

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
Crank up the
the song from a Stove-Top
Its finger hot
His pitch flip the nigga flop
My hit, like the pitch was soft
Niggas balled
She dropped cause she poppin off
Her cross guard, but, I dont stop at all
I smash in the car, fuck the fucking law
I bet gone, who wanna make it done
The shit that we up on
on em like hay in the barn
Hey wait they say talks
And, man you speak at all
You at mini-malls
My style two up, like using analogues
I wreck shit, for the recognition
as my witness, say envision
I you niggas flame flicker
I melt
Tyga aint drippin