Luyện nghe bài hát Future

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

now Khaled told me kill 'em, he just told me kill 'em
Hundred for the Beamer, Kudos for the
Murder, bet I wrote it, Kudos to the
Chevy crooked, teeth on Reggie Miller
I'm a beast, see me in your sleep
Nightmare on any street, swear I will mark any
this to the industry, lyrics like a chopper piece
Flow right through fitted T, pull this through with chemistry
Hottest nigga 'round, they saying greatness is my
No such thing as sympathy, more money, my
Pockets on, heavy D, I'm hot, third degree
Whip I drive? Owned by me, wrists and neck,
Can it be? I'm who you to be'
of a dying breed, I'm Siamese
Twin pistol shooter nigga a 7B
Big dog, get it, you still on your
Yeah, fly with some stupid swag
Dead faces keep my money in the bag
And the G-U-T-T-A, hops in the whip and I gotta get
Fuck bitches, ain't trying to get laid
in my house you can meet my maid
And you give a damn you can push Lac
Push that on, push that 'Lade, hop to the whip
No top on mine, hear a nigga hate, man fuck guys
Real nigga shit, tell no lie
Private plane, my seat recline, top 10 charts, I reside
Got me a ?

We the muthafuckin best, to my mama
Ridin' presidential, got me feeling Obama
'Cause all I want is
And my niggas they wanted the
I wanted the money and the fame
I turned into something they never
Through all the rain, I my flame
And I burning and its my turn and
nigga my hood confirm it
Now it's 6 2's on curtains
And that Maybach, let me em way back
When I was that was payback
Nigga where cake at?
all your artists
And I, I, I, I can feel love,
But I that hate
When I got that ? I feel so safe
I put it to your mug, you gon' wake
When that thing fly
Got a little kick, but it no tired
Niggas talk murder, but they ain't gon
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 twist and talk with they fingers
Man but ain't no sign language
out of the ashes
This a fucking classic from when MM got the masses
Trick Trick got them
Bitch I'm the Motor, Motor
that motor be the fastest bitch,
They it Motor City
you're most likely to crash (fuck it)
Good I got a chauffeur
broke? No sir!
Bitch I'm the rap stylist,
'Cause I gave the rap game style
But I over shine, ain't no over Sean
Toll by the quarter so I guess we're going overtime.
'Til we're Dumb high, dumb
Westside, I run mine
I'm around in my old school, I feel like the alumni
Fucking hoes, no strings
So don't ask me why strung out
I'm like to you niggas
I might stick my tongue out
She and wobble, bobbled
Then landed on my
Bitch, I might you my baby
And buy you a bottle
Yo don't ask how the top feel?
When you keep em' right you
My got paper on paper
This shit just like a novel boy
100 thousand of ice on me now
But it feel half as good
As grandma she's proud

dedicated, Maybach poetic genius
Some they close to seeing me
Tell em close to Stevie
You poser niggas supposed to be here
We don't ya.
MG'er, we put a wreath on niggas' careers
We the best,
No to stress, Khaled
Know 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 hydro me tired, yo
My be so Tai Bo!
My balance be so tight
That's hard to find Quick
Get rough With me, Night flow
Hoes blow for me, I maestro,
That whip sit
Like a slight wrist
Suicide shit, you can by shit if you write this
Nigga and this minute, they say I'm buzzing hard
My out of this world, you playing bumper cars.
You niggas
You should be
All you smoke is Reggie, I'm in the telly bunch of
Who gon' me that I ain't going or I ain't flowin'
Young Folarin, you see puters
That was my

The fell, turning to Ground Zero
Kids didn't like Reggie
Nicki Barnes hero
As I play Rothstein, like Rob De Niro
through it but here though
Don't with the weirdos
Dress pimpin' the toast like win
Penthouses on West and 4th, and Mac 6
While me in a Maserati bricking his best
When I die, tell to turn my coffin to stretch Benz rims on it
My man's on, see him, we stomp 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 say?
Few roaches, you need spray, on tours, eat
Making all your feet sprayed
Get the pills through, through SRT-8 truck on, seats gray
Drop like release dates, Vado