Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Running

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

I like 50
He reminds me
And Yayo is Blues Clues
And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer
my friends

I went down one of them Bodaga shits right 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 say that bitch a man
So this Wallstreet for life now
GGG-UNOT!

[The
300 and Runnin
Just loan me your ears for 15
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll 'em, them niggaz 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, your ears a little closer
Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a nigga shots to shoot back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in square
Watch 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
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? was the only niggaz that rapped in Philly?
See them niggaz with the soonies leave you in Philly
Then dash in groups Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
a U-turn, I gotta go back to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the
So they wouldn't get the dogs searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was
beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
When it's beef we eat, we win, but we 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 I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you out before you see the cops
I ain't hot top for colors, I'm from Block
So I got my hot tops that your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like in there, they can't believe you dropped
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
hell to niggaz when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's when the ?? clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
We got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then the sound like
I'm a say ?? if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a ??
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
Niggaz running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you see the captain with plans of getting me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, nigga I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only drop
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in that dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a nigga wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Queens
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
Take shit off ??, go back to PC
And tell 50 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 rhyme dictionary, to his lines
like Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong nigga, when you need help with rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna your beef mine
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 with your mom, and you ain't fucked with
Then you lied about pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning I couldn't trust cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could bring back
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason niggaz my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
the reason niggaz saying my name like Mike Jones
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 to it, but it in the store the shit moving
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, nigga is more than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both ?? in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I with 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 sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk when I catch the nigga Whoo Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods, Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This bootlegging my music, ain't nothing 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
Drop him off at Squad, let him scream for the jakes
when you fucking with Jayceon, you can bleed in the lake
For caking off niggaz on them CD's and
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage like
only for your shit just a lil bit
Niggaz only for your just a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killer shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for he can walk through muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, never air max for the ??
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass sting
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
They stab you then ?? then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
Nigga acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The
Make a I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots from the empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
Throw in and lift the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, think I'm locin' backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, 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 nigga, on with the Jake 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 then who you
We getting tired of you talkin about who you
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, months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same nigga wanna take us to the Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
Nigga got mad when The Game buzzing
So making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game had to go
Nigga I'll smack that ho like I'm
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
wanna sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the first one it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
say the Lord givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
Niggaz hating on me, they don't Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the SWAT car and 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 ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
I'm a cold nigga when I put the pen to the page
Similar to shells going into my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Blaze, 'cause the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou wet jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred thou break 'em
And the is hot like that wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the more to snake 'em
So as the beat drop, watch where I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me some
When Game in the house, they ??
'cause they about what went on in D.C
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50
Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be rock, like ??
50 whispered in my ear, like we still
We ain't friends, I'm just like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one 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 Dana Day on the like Common
Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen
The flow is news, I throw it up vomit
And I shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded Rodman
still Aftermath, two feet in the pentition
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala ??
And I keep a black .45 on the of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou my wallet missing
Then re-up kid before the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, my black Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The
Feel me? If not then I guess you kill me
But you ain't gon' do that so move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss y'all, can I get a hand
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, the ?? clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now that's your ass nigga
Kept your mouth and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out butter
I'ma show 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 bus and felt your little flow
Then he you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I my nigga Jojo to get it back
He had the shit in his hands, and you had the ten stacks
Picture that, I thought we was
Then you ran and told 50 I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
one shot of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run the Candy Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat
Got 20 to go, lay it down like sheet rock
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 need spots
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now whoever motherfucker, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever motherfucker, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
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 remain
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the weight of the on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone...