Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My took me to Sam Goody's
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took that shit
shit was wack like a muthafucka
Don't fuck with

I like 50
He reminds me
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is Dora the
They're my

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

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

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow tips'll '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, bring your ears a little
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a take shots to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then him a concert in Madison square
everybody sleep through 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 thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, what I told the cops
So they get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? is when I murk you on the spot
signing many things, still searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened when say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You records but a GGG-u 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 Block
What i got in my high will make your breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up where my homeboy 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 hell to *****z when Dre producing a
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him duke is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then pop wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
*****z running their mouth what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, that's the NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your is boring
Take shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On street doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a dictionary, to rehearse his lines
like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 tryna some lines
That's the *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad I ain't wanna make your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you lied about your pops, he ain't bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring Justo
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z 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
Gave 'em a bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And them shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
hit me on the sidekick asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that chain
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma take him out his house, put the beam on his
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant
Not the instant
I mean the machine G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z feel your shit just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I a gorilla quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters 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 pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your left with the Aryans ass will sting
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who and said he write my songs
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept them for
***** stop acting before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots from the Mack the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
in Makaveli and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he 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
I'll use another six 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 or Die Tryin, we thought you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
talking about we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't be cool, I don't wanna be you
I wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass with it
They say the givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
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 down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
'cause I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the
to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them into
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
a look at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou can't 'em
And the flow is hot like that wit
And the only thing I got spinning is
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch I take 'em
Compton meet, to get me some 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 conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner Common
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still like diamonds
They me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood politican, liffin'
And I keep a .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a thou like my wallet missing
re-up like kid before the d-cup
Continuously getting 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 guess you kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so muthafucka back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac 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 strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth shut and I you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
Tryna the game, talking shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you your life
Get my Vibe, it's war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my Jojo to get it back
He had the in his hands, and you ain't 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 ain't to find
I told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
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 down like sheet
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I three spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I remain
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can me from taking it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone