Luyện nghe bài hát In The Trunk

on
Where at, where they at, where they at

I tapes every day me and Freddy B
famous since 1983
Give me ten dollars, and you straight get
A rap all about you called the special
Oakland, you know I go way
To coug nuts, fal stangs, and
homeboys put vogues on any car
With 6 by 9's burners
Everybody got addicted to my dopefiend
town fucked around and started smoking D
Every rap I ever made was about this
I made 7 whole with no James Brown
And even I love his music, I just can't stand
The way used it all up and didn't pay the man
And after 2 platnum albums, you call me
I don't sell records in the East
Now what's funky, I say on an old hoe
I y'all fools don't know
Why some good rappers can't no tapes
It's not the company's fault, the shit fake
You be in the trunk, with the booming box
While the young ride on your jock
You can't do it like this homey, so pass it
And stop kissing them folks asses
It's like you smoked a whole key
You rap so fast you keep the beat
I'm the old school, I love P-Funk
But now rap is all that they want
So when I'm in my car, I Clinton
And when I'm on the I start pimping
And when I hear shit, I push eject
Then I throw it out the window the rejects
And the hard core rappers go soft
I to watch when they ass fall off
Cause ain't nothing worth like a sucka MC
And any other rappers ever about me
I don't stop rapping, all they can say
And how I dogg bitches, day
But if you can't be a dogg, then you're
You be phony like a side freak
Some try to come off positive
Where I'm from that ain't how it is
They say rap music is to stay
But the sucka MC's don't think way
It took 8 long before I got my break
So I why rapper's make fake ass tapes
You won't get like I did, so give up punk
And while in the studio, I'm in the trunk
You got no choice, so flip that coin
ain't the military, so you punks can't join
It ain't pop, it's underground rap
From Oakland California and the sounds phat
I'm spitting raps to my homies
That's why listen to the one and only
I to be broke, but now we all used to be
Got no game for a bitch, all the is for me
And these bitches, can't say to me
They could never could fuck Short baby
I'm not a tounge twisting rapper a funny style
Don't dress hip hop and dance real
But I do sell records like a
though you might I'm just another sucka
I find the beat and then never
Grab the and then call you a bitch
You want money, I got pimp money
One for sure, I won't give it to a hoe
I throw a in the god damn trunk
And start slamming Oakland funk
Short Dogg's in the house, again
Trying to fade the platnum, with the Pimp
And when I do, I'm straight to the bank
Withdraw some money and buy dank
You can't to my motherfucking homies
That's why they to the one and only
I grew up on the called P
But these growing up on me
And if I ego trip, and my is fucked
I take my ass back, to I grew up
And get real boy, it's too late
Before I do you and make a weak ass tape
I'm in the

In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk, in, in the
In the beating down the block

In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk, in, in the
In the trunk beating the block