Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took shit home
That shit was wack a motherfucker
Don't fuck with

I like 50
He me Spongebob
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
my friends

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

[The
300 Bars and
Just me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy than Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this 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 do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga take to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah standing his
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
What you thought? Them was the only niggaz rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the soonies leave you wrapped in
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
Even I was Ready To Die, when I that he was shot
What's beef? Beef is when I murk you on the
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or me, but now the cops the only homies he got
it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely 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
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding
And I you black out before you see the cops
I hot top for colors, I'm from Cedar Block
So I got my hot tops that your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe you dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring to niggaz when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the back
Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's when the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
We got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then the like Esko
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
Niggaz their mouth about what the fuck they 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 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go back, nigga I pop mines
How you drop Olivia, you only drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my niggaz make collect
a faggot nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
that shit off ??, go back to PC
And 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass nigga need a dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the nigga, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky Ja, why you ain't go at Shyne?
He freestyled the pen, that's just the fact
Said he'd put you your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning I couldn't trust those
I'd kill 'em all, if I bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the the shit moving
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, nigga this is more music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
?? in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef any nigga, say my name motherfuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods, gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This nigga bootlegging my music, ain't 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
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the
For caking off niggaz on them 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 your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only for your just a lil bit
only for your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killer shit
My clips bananas, I a gorilla 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 head band, to cover the holes in his
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
Take my advice, wear air max for the ??
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if your left the Aryans your ass will sting
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
They will stab you then ?? 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 leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you kept them for yourself
Nigga stop acting before 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 lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake nigga, on pictures with the nigga?
Got his crew 'cause he ain't the whole cake, nigga
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he out like a gangsta
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
Nigga got mad when The Game buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm throwing slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
Nigga I'll smack ho like I'm Jackie-O
I don't 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, don't wanna be in your
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can back 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, wiped my ass with it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
Niggaz hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
I'm a cold nigga when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
a look at my chest, a hundred thou wet jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The I get the more willing to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Compton meet, to get me some All-Stars
Game in the house, they call ??
'cause they about what went on in D.C
about Hot 97, my beef with 50
Now tell me do he got a
I think not, if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, be at this conference
I'd be pushing rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Charles
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
E. Fresh and Dana Day on the corner like Common
Now that common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is news, I throw it up vomit
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala ??
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting money my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do so motherfucker move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
I wake the dead, everybody remove hats
We y'all, 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 ?? clap
I to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you Cashville but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I gave you a pass
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
This nigga with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you want that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucker I'ma you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
that, I thought 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
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
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
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga Reebocks
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now it's motherfucker, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever motherfucker, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A king in the making, and the is for the taking
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone...