Luyện nghe bài hát Ice Cream

Young Money, in the big shot
Time to do the thing, that's word to your watch
Shoot the til it burn, til my wrist lock
Rims hella big, skinny like Chris Rock
the gun sideways like O-Dog
Shoot a nigga in his face, knock his off
Make the girls say my like roll call
Pain killers got a nigga about to off
Big shit, nigga talk big shit,
Big bread: bread a picnic nigga
Shake the whole game like the nigga
Money spread like germs: get nigga
Yea, and them other niggas
who want it? I deliver
Concrete shoes help in the river
I don't if you was Michael Phelps my nigga
I'm higher than the motherfucking my nigga
I'm flyer than the stealth my nigga
Money shit, top-shelf my nigga
We the like MILF my nigga
Ahem, flow syringes
Yea I'm in my mode, got a code Da Vinci's
I was in the trenches, now I'm in the
And everybody your back when you're in the front
You ain't safe, stop playing with a gangsta
Bring it to his and he ran like a flanker
Bend the girl over, put her hands on her
I'm all over this ice beat like sprinkles
"Why thank you", if a hater
I'm eating, a waiter
on my hip: Tomb Raider
Holla at your guala, later
Young Tune nigga, nigga
And if you think you're sweet, buy a room
nigga
I'm on my gang
She give me good brain like she studied at
Lighting up a motherfucking
Stupid fruity like a motherfucking runt
And I be my dog like a motherfucker hunting
day of the week is the first of the month
Audemars with the diamonds in the face
Can't tell the cause the diamonds in the face
We can get it popping like a semi
And if you got I put the biscuit on a patty
Rockstar tatted, addict
Running shit, now I'm feeling athletic
I'm on a boat bitch, getting sea
Stop playing, I'm fresher a degree stick
shit, well, of course I smoke mad weed
I'm on my high-horse, please don't shoot me down, I land flat
Then walk a million miles with New on my back
Ha, I a massage
And when it to hoes, man, I got a collage
Finger on the button, nigga just
If you ain't the bank teller, don't tell me
so strong you can smell me comin'
Bitch, I go hard the boy from "300"
You think you it, well boy we puntin'
Young Money baby we the weak stomachs
No Ceilings