Luyện nghe bài hát Future

I am the streets, the
I introduce you to Ace Hood, Meek
Big Sean, Wale, Vado, this the
They money, they makin' hit records, they hustlin'

Okay now Khaled me kill 'em, he just told me kill 'em
for the Beamer, Kudos for the dealer
Murder, bet I wrote it, to the killer
Chevy sittin' crooked, on Reggie Miller
I'm a motherfuckin' beast, see me in your
Nightmare on any street, swear I mark any beat
Spread this to the industry, like a chopper piece
Flow right through your fitted T, pull this through with
Hottest nigga 'round, they saying is my tendency
No such as sympathy, more money, my remedy
Pockets on, D, bitch I'm hot, third degree
Whip I Owned by me, wrists and neck, anti-freeze
Can it be? I'm who you to be'
Last of a breed, I'm Siamese
Twin pistol shooter nigga a 7B
Big dog, get it, you on your pedigree
Yeah, fly nigga some stupid swag
Dead faces my money in the body bag
And the G-U-T-T-A, hops in the and I gotta get paid
Fuck bitches, ain't trying to get laid
Walk in my you can meet my maid
And you give a damn you can that Lac
Push that Benz on, that 'Lade, hop to the whip
No top on mine, a nigga hate, man fuck them guys
Real shit, don't tell no lie
Private plane, my recline, top 10 charts, where I reside
Got me a ?

We the muthafuckin best, to my mama
Ridin' presidential, got me feeling Obama
'Cause all I want is
And my niggas they wanted the
I the money and never the fame
I turned into they never became
Through all the rain, I kept my
And I kept and its my turn and
Real my hood confirm it
Now it's 6 2's on curtains
And that Maybach, let me em way back
When I was starving was payback
Nigga where that at?
Murder all your
And I, I, I, I can feel love,
But I that hate
When I got that ? I just feel so
I put it to your mug, you ain't wake
When thing gon' fly
Got a little kick, but it no tired
Niggas talk murder, but they gon ride
Now we hard like I ain't gonna die
Mill!

Do it! OK
Smoke until I got no
Got her going down, no
I it "speaking tongues"
Do it! Do it!
Now you speaking my
From they twist and talk with they fingers
Man but ain't no sign language
Fresh out of the
This a fucking classic from when MM got the masses
Trick Trick got passes
I'm from the Motor, Motor
Yeah that motor be the bitch,
They call it City
'Cause you're likely to crash (fuck it)
Good I got a chauffeur
Going No sir!
Bitch I'm the rap stylist,
'Cause I gave the rap game bitch
But I over shine, ain't no over Sean
Toll rollin by the quarter so I we're going overtime.
'Til Dumb high, dumb high
Westside, I run mine
I'm rolling around in my old school, I feel like the
hoes, no strings attached
So don't ask me why they out
I'm Jordan to you niggas
I even stick my tongue out
She and wobble, bobbled
Then landed on my
Bitch, I might you my baby
And buy you a bottle
Yo don't ask how the top feel?
When you keep em' beside you
My got paper on paper
This just look like a novel boy
100 worth of ice on me now
But it don't half as good
As grandma saying she's

dedicated, Maybach poetic genius
Some think they close to me
em they close to Stevie
You poser niggas ain't to be here
We don't ya.
MG'er, we put a wreath on niggas' careers
We the best,
No need to stress,
Know there's a lot of
But I got the palette
Multiple colors, my mind's more productive than
Murray the winner, he he really
Mandela
That's though.
One for the 305, though
That hydro me tired, yo
My be so Tai Bo!
My balance be so tight
That's hard to find Tri-Flow
Get rough With me, that flow
Hoes blow for me, I maestro,
That whip sit
Like a slight wrist
Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write this
Nigga and right minute, they say I'm buzzing hard
My driver's out of this world, you playing cars.
You niggas
You be unemployed
All you smoke is Reggie, I'm in the telly of noise
Who gon' tell me that I ain't going or I ain't
Young Folarin, you see puters
That was my

The towers fell, turning to Ground
didn't like Reggie Jackson
Nicki their hero
As I Rothstein, Corleone like Rob De Niro
Been it but here though
move with the weirdos
Dress pimpin' the toast let's win
Penthouses on and 4th, pipes and Mac 6
While me in a Maserati his best friends
When I die, tell them to my coffin to stretch Benz rims on it
My man's on, see him, we stomp him out
His mouth, our on it
Always a ounce, a mountain, no tens on it
Spins on it, you no clout, the Benz on it
What the fiends
Few roaches, you need spray, on tours, eat
Making sure all your feet
Get the pills through, through SRT-8 truck on, seats gray
Drop tops like release dates,