Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama me to Sam Goody's
I to buy a 50 Cent CD
I took that home
That was wack like a muthafucka
Don't fuck with

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

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

300 and Runnin
loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
What they say? is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z rapped in Philly?
See them *****z the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? Curtis Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's what I told the
So they get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the
I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's beef? is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still for they Pac
I put on the block
So I feel threatened when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a 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
Stop hoping I fall, hope the bleeding
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I ain't High Top Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my tops will make your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't believe he
Now I'm on up to George and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring to *****z when Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece duece to hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? go
Drop them off, pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 years younger Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens Bridge
Now your career is over, is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is
Take that shit off lingo, go to PC
And 50 Cent you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On street doing voice overs
Bitch ass need a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with them rhymes
We was in the studio, I first got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need with your rhymes
All he tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask that
I knew from the beginning not to trust cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot like
feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out a Air Jordon shoe
I told Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This ***** my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So take him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z 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
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel your just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
on your chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for thinking he can walk muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
my advice, never wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now to the coward of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop acting before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
Make a I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack 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, Fase think I'm backing up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy 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 fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin about who you
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna take us to the Candy
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So making friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I don't be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear G-Unit shoes
want 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 white Nike and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four times platinum, I been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, 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 on me, they don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA on Jayceon to make a mistake
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive down way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the to stay
'cause I'm a ***** when I put the pen to the page
to them shells going into my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he them into granades
And Just Blaze, 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 look at my chest, a hundred thou at
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like wit Satan
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 Swap meet, to get me some
When Game in the house, they all cars
'cause they about what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my with 50

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd be pushing rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop on me like I'm the convict
What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. and Daina Dane on the corner like Common
Now that common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I shine like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
It's Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm to stop I can't because
I'm in the hood 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 like my missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I fuck 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 move back
I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I stay strapped?
On that murder T-I-P, kill you
won't know which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now time for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my name now that's fucking ass nigga
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating
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 Inc., now who the wanksta?
When Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and went to the NO
50 you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
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 ain't had the ten
Picture that, I thought we was
Then you ran and told 50 I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga fuck
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, no getting me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, exhausted, resting in peace
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone