Luyện nghe bài hát Future

I am the streets, the
I you to Ace Hood, Meek Mills
Big Sean, Wale, Vado, this the
They gettin' money, they hit records, they hustlin'

Okay now Khaled told me kill 'em, he just me kill 'em
for the Beamer, Kudos for the dealer
Murder, bet I wrote it, Kudos to the
Chevy sittin' crooked, teeth on Reggie
I'm a motherfuckin' beast, see me in your
Nightmare on any street, swear I mark any beat
this to the industry, lyrics like a chopper piece
Flow right through your fitted T, this through with chemistry
Hottest nigga 'round, they saying is my tendency
No such thing as sympathy, more money, my
Pockets on, D, bitch I'm hot, third degree
Whip I drive? by me, wrists and neck, anti-freeze
Can it be? I'm who you to be'
Last of a dying breed, I'm
Twin pistol shooter like a 7B
Big dog, get it, you still on pedigree
Yeah, fly nigga with some swag
faces keep my money in the body bag
And the G-U-T-T-A, hops in the and I gotta get paid
Fuck them bitches, ain't to get laid
Walk in my you can meet my maid
And you a damn you can push that Lac
that Benz on, push that 'Lade, hop to the whip
No top on mine, hear a nigga hate, man them guys
Real shit, don't tell no lie
Private plane, my seat recline, top 10 charts, where I
Got me a ?

We the best, word to my mama
Ridin' presidential, got me like Obama
all I want is change
And my they wanted the same
I the money and never the fame
I into something they never became
Through all the rain, I kept my
And I kept and its my turn and
nigga my hood confirm it
Now it's 6 2's on closed
And that Maybach, let me em way back
When I was starving that was
Nigga where cake at?
Murder all your
And I, I, I, I can that love,
But I that hate
When I got that ? I feel so safe
I put it to mug, you ain't gon' wake
that thing gon' fly
Got a little kick, but it no tired
talk murder, but they ain't gon ride
Now we goin' hard like I ain't die
Mill!

Do it! OK
Smoke until I got no
Got her going down, no
I it "speaking tongues"
Do it! Do it!
Now you speaking my
From where they twist and with they fingers
Man but this ain't no sign
out of the ashes
This a fucking classic from when MM got the masses
Trick got them passes
I'm from the Motor, Motor
Yeah motor be the fastest bitch,
They it Motor City
'Cause you're likely to crash (fuck it)
thing I got a chauffeur
Going No sir!
Bitch I'm the rap stylist,
I gave the rap game style bitch
But I over shine, no niggas over Sean
rollin by the quarter so I guess we're going overtime.
'Til we're Dumb high, dumb
Westside, bitch I run
I'm around in my old school, I feel like the alumni
Fucking hoes, no attached
So don't ask me why strung out
I'm like Jordan to you
I might even my tongue out
She wiggled and wobble,
Then landed on my
Bitch, I might you my baby
And even buy you a
Yo niggas don't ask how the top
When you keep em' right you
My got paper on paper
This shit just look like a boy
100 worth of ice on me now
But it don't feel as good
As saying she's proud

Forever dedicated, Maybach genius
Some they close to seeing me
em they close to Stevie
You poser niggas ain't supposed to be
We believe ya.
Double MG'er, we put a wreath on careers
We the best,
No need to stress,
there's a lot of artists
But I got the best
Multiple colors, my more productive than others
the winner, he think he really
Nelson
fire though.
One for the 305, though
That make me tired, yo
My be so Tai Bo!
My balance be so rope
That's hard to Quick Tri-Flow
Get rough With me, that flow
Hoes blow for me, I maestro,
That white sit
Like a wrist slit
Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write shit
Nigga and right this minute, they say I'm hard
My driver's out of this world, you bumper cars.
You niggas
You should be
All you smoke is Reggie, I'm in the bunch of noise
Who gon' tell me that I ain't or I ain't flowin'
Young Folarin, you see puters
That was my

The towers fell, turning to Ground
didn't like Reggie Jackson
Nicki Barnes hero
As I play Rothstein, Corleone Rob De Niro
Been through it but here
Don't move the weirdos
Dress pimpin' the toast like win
on West and 4th, pipes and Mac 6
While me in a Maserati bricking his friends
When I die, them to turn my coffin to stretch Benz rims on it
Problems? My man's on, see him, we him out
His mouth, our on it
smoking a ounce, a mountain, no tens on it
Spins on it, you have no clout, the on it
What the fiends
Few roaches, you spray, on tours, eat straight
Making all your feet sprayed
Get the pills through, peel through SRT-8 truck on, gray
Drop tops like release dates,