Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

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

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, back in it
Black menace
Black clothes, tennis
semi,
Ive never sat in
That offend me
Try or Maybach
Bitch I got stacks,
Paychecks on
And I still payback
And I dont play that
I on ASAP
And you do shit but get money all day
Put some on my bullets now they runnin your way
YM Mula, Young Money all day
Where the drugs so sweet, honey on yay
Which one of yall say, you want drama Im
I blitz your ass, like a lineman
Stack of paychecks, with a whole of commas
Still red, like a old 49er
Fuck on ya, dump the whole toilet on ya
Wee-Weezy F Baby bitch, I'm than Uganda
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

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

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
up the notch
Burn the song a Stove-Top
Its licking hot
His pitch cause the nigga flop
My hit, like the pitch was soft
Niggas cotton
She dropped cause she poppin off
Her pussy guard, but, I dont stop at all
I in the car, like fuck the fucking law
I bet daddy gone, who wanna make it
The rocky shit we up on
on em like hay in the barn
Hey they say money 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 pictures
Tyga skin drippin