Luyện nghe bài hát Next Up

Gawddayum, I don't know what y'all thinkin' 'bout
But I think this right is about to shut dem damn haters down

I'm the streets that make niggaz walk slow, talk low
With white chalk-o, mi casa be uno ocho
Brooklyn motherfucker, handle
my Spanish and French

Okay, I stay clever like Mayweather with lay
Till your sever, one of the greatest ever
Beyond bells, my name's so demandin'
Shit, I got the that'll leave Dakota Fanning

I you niggaz over standin', I stay sucker-free
The next king of in the game, you got enough to be
Your last a week, that'll be luckily
Fuck with me, the rap game'll protective custody

I'm the same that be surrounded with women
Gave the game true religion before you found it in
Feel the of Kane and you could not escape
The hip hop of The Ring and you just watched the tape

And keep your eyes on the in Ward
Triple in the candy painted car is the color of board
Me or my brother on with n'am nigga
We trill, workin' the wheel, understand

I smother and split a bitch down to the
High pressure, if you don't break ass bendin'
I'm way past endin' in my of warnin'
You with me tonight, playa, you dead by the mornin'

Bun Beater, the best breathin' or deceased
the South to Midwest, Cali to the East
Go to any city and bring my name up
I bet I eat the best rapper they got in the up

Call a nigga up, him or chirp him
Make a out his motherfuckin' ass and then burp him
Don't fuck around, I'm not your homey
I'm the King of the Underground, so act like you me

Homie, we big steppin', big
We givin' kids & Wesson's lessons, you get left with a sketchin'
Left with the Midwest, clique
G. and Daddy Kane, the click Texas, pop you to

I put private planes on Jetsons, niggaz know what it is
you see the ball cap and a slick Thessons
Till you vexin to a movie clip from the Westerns
Shit from the Uzi clip lift up your

He introduce you to the nose on the Glock fam
Give you metal jackets clothes from a rock band
holes, you get those on your top, man
High roller dose some hoes on the plan

Froze but never coldly rolls a hot hand
We stackin' cheese till the rubber pop scrams
And I ain't when I'm in the pop stance
Bank pounds James Brown give 'em Hot Pants

I your girl get down and open it up
Put my dick up in they jaws and go in butt
I'm a young hot street flame, they call me Sweet
Or call me Sir Jones, two hundred cologne

Board Nine or Miyaki
I got your girl mine, meat strong like
I Rocky but I keep her rockin'
Fuck around, knock your tuna fish out of socket

bitch out of pocket, she under pimpery
She reckless eyeballin' watchin' my top in
On my Lamborghini with the quick
Fettucini, linguine, shrimp and a of lean

What you about gettin' cross country?
Nigga, your piece big but your look monkey
You need to take that shit
That ain't no Emmy diamonds what the fuck you to that

Bitch, the fuck you done to that?
Now, damn, somebody need to beat ass over that