Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever since I woke up this morning, I've on
Twist the cap up off my weed jar, and smoked a
Took a shower and got gone in the wind, Steve Wynn
I'm from the of California where we be hustlin and grittin'
Gettin' that women, and mackin', droppin' and stackin'
Wheelin' and dealin' and a killin' trying to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and drinkin' and chillin' in of the apartment building
Packin' and and toast the lean oh what a feelin'
He's a fraudulent, I'm
He a simp, he a sap, he
I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a percent
I'm a hustler Larry Flynt
Getting money's my habit, I stay in the
up like a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I in a loser, mayne I'm gonna walk out a winner
I ball a hooper man, papered up like a printer
I ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm
Mental health, argue with my conscience cursin' out
My psychologist got a psychologist, too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

Act like you
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
it to the ceiling

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
to get my paper right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Drinking and on some good bud
Smokin' on a strain you never of
Exclusive shit, I got it my plugs
You drop my on my rug
That's pushups, that's a party foul
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I don't (who?)
Aliens me, that's a no-no
They'll try to sneak me and turn my into adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe with his .45 Glock
I'm ADHD, need to calm my nerves
You to find me at my kid's teacher's meeting smellin' like herb
I stay plastered, but I'm all about my
Liquor aroma, me in the elevator
More whips than Trader, that's what I got
Driveway, looks a car lot
My is stronger than my bark
you thought, heart
Bitch you of shit like a dog park
Mark ass poodle, square as a
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a real one's
While these sideline niggas be always to count a hustler's chizznips
Flappin' their lizznips some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running mouth like that, we call 'em quack-quacks
how a bitch gets smack-smacked
Shot in the naps,
Head put on flap, can't even bring 'em back (bitch)

Act you know
Dippin' and bobbin and
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
to get my paper right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Act like you
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my right, my nigga
it to the ceiling

...to the