Luyện nghe bài hát I Really Mean It

You see man, let's get off of lame man
Let's get what we like to do man
This what we do man
We bring that powerful music to table man
Killa, let em something

Guru, Just Blaze, Killa, Diplomats, huh
Juelz Santana, Jim Jones, Zekey
Hoffa, Dash, huh, Killa, huh

niggas dreamed it, I have seen it
Body warm, heart
(I really it)
Coke, a nigga steamed it, I leaned em
Beemer it
(I mean it)

Guns, beaming, rarely miss, what's really good?
Bikes, and creamin'
(I really it)
I'm a genius, poppadopalis, leaning
On Zenith
(I mean it)

Killa, bury more mutts, they actually all
Caddy more trucks, daddy Warbucks
And you Orphan Annie, ma, off your panties
Sea soft and
(I really it)

Yeah, let's get in candy
I got in Boston, Austin
Flossin' of Miami
Reno, Nevada sip colada

Mama I'm on the Prada
(I mean it)
I rock more in Phoenix to glory
it, you seen it
(I really it)

The game it, it's pain in music
But this year, wrist wear the bluest
I get lame and lose it, came to do it
Aim and shoot it, til your brains the fluid
Ya'll just kids, see what I did, take a couple bars off
Let [unverified] live

Yeah, now powerful music man
You need to pop something and roll
(I mean it)
Killa we did it man, I got your forever, Dip Set
(I really it)

And lames, we pop them sideways
And drag faggots
(I really it)
Okay, we back in, listen
(I really it)
Hey yo lock my garage, rock my
Fuck it, bucket by Osh Kosh

Golly, I'm gully, at his galoshes
Gucci, gold, plaque collages
From collabos, ghost writing for
Want to use my brain, than Killa mad dough

all good, increase Killa cash flow
Increase my fame, that's why Killa smash
You'll get side swiped, at my life
First movie ever, merked out Phife

And Papi got out of pies twice
Dip Set, we with five dice
Cee-lo and craps, and stacks
I send bodies with, read note attached

Ya youngin' fucked with boys in the
Gave her a son like Ricky, from in the Hood'
On the bloody, old lady sighing
screaming
(I really it)

Pissy little baby
Fuck upped man shit, you seen it
(I mean it)
Fam man, you terry cloth, mean you very soft
Mercedes, add the cranberry sauce

Yeah, ride man
we got you, guns up
(I really it)
And all my ladies man, the ghettos a
I you, I want you
(I mean it)

Oh, pop something, roll
Get twisted, that's on Jim
(I mean it)
Harlem! Man we here to
nothing left to say man
(I mean it)

Eastside, and as for lame man
Now see I ain't even gone say your name
'Cause that's mine, I catch you, you know it is
You faggot!

I ain't gone get to hyped you man
We bury you, holla!
See if you bout it, it
we is
(I mean it)
NYC!