Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I that shit home
That shit was wack like a
fuck with Game

I like 50
He me Spongebob
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
my friends

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

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

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
tips'll fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, your ears a little closer
Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, yeah standing his
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the
So they wouldn't get the dogs start for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't 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 before you see the
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
What i got in my high tops make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, 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 up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring to *****z when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then 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 Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop them off, then pop cristal wit
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
And you gon' see the captain plans of getting me captured
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you gon' drop Olivia, you drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, your 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 repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help your rhymes
All he tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew from the not to trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't I could do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like
Both feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and
And I beef any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them shits out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** my music, ain't nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the on his face
Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off 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 name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a band, to cover the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy like Redman
blacked out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then fuck you on
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my
He told Vibe Dre was gonna me on the shelf
So he me all his hits, you should've kept them for yourself
***** stop acting tough I stand over you
you how The Documentary live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase I'm locin' backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd 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 that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks

the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord take it
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they want Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So can put me in the squad 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 ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
'cause I'm a cold ***** I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them granades
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, then I'm Kanye
Take a look at my chest, a hundred at jacob
Whole got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the more to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about went on in D.C.
Heard Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was
Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that ain't common, it's like Top Ramen
The is noodles, I throw it up like vomit
And I still shine diamonds
They kicked me out of and I rebounded like Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou my wallet missing
Then re-up kid before the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, everybody remove
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
They won't know which to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that 'cause you love your life
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
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in
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
Then you ran and told 50 that I did that
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told Monica when I him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm out of breath, like 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 like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting 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 with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you 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 mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone