Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

My mama took me to Sam
I wanted to buy a 50 CD
I took that shit
That was wack like a muthafucka
Don't fuck with

I 50 Cent
He me Spongebob
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd is Dora the Explorer
They're my

I went down one of them Bodaga right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Lloyd Banks and Buck CD
Took that home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was bout to be on some radio Raheim
Man that shit sound like Vanessa Williams '88
I mean cute but they say that bitch a man
So this Black for life now
GGG-UNOT!

300 Bars and
Just loan me your ears for 15
Walk me

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See *****z with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go back to
I forgot my cheese stake, that's I told the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I forget, B.I.G. got murdered by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard that he was
beef? Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still searching for Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
it's beef we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony I bet 10 G's you flop
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, hope the stop
And I hope you black out before you see the
I ain't Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm Elvis in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and Weezy's
I picked up where my homeboy Eazy
I saw the west coast, put the shit on my
Aftermath on it, then loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no who comes strapped
Lloyd Banks, it ain't about who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is rufus
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, then pop wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas back was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the they gon' do to me
But the yapping before I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' Olivia, you only drop dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z collect calls
a faggot ***** wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, CNN in the rover
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, your is boring
Take that off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna your beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said he'd put you your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew from the beginning not to trust those
I'd kill 'em all, if I bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my like Mike Jones
And I'm far Houston but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the moving
Gave 'em a bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is more music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
I'll air you out on King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with bruised
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of hip-hop
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, ain't for him to say
Took me off my own songs, put it on his tapes
So I'ma take him out his house, put the on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on them and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel your shit a lil bit
On my 50 helped me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some shit
My clips bananas, I kill a gorilla
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell Ecko to make him a
Reebock to make him some boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy waters like
Banks out and let the gun blam without a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, never air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And cell mate is a 25 to lifer
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Life On
Now back to the coward of the who lied and said he write my songs
He Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you kept them for yourself
***** stop tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary live on top of The
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop on my left, but I pass 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You out with Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** wanna us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game buzzing
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
***** smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
'cause I wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with it
Four times platinum, I done there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then wiped my ass it
They say the givth, if Lord take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
*****z hating on me, don't want Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I the winter to stay
'cause I'm a ***** when I put the pen to the page
to them shells going into my gauge
I 'em off to Dre, he turned them into granades
And Just Blaze, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if are forever, then I'm Kanye West
a look at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole crew got chains, a hundred can't break 'em
And the flow is hot like wit Satan
And the only thing I got is Daytons
The hotter I get the more willing to 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch where I 'em
Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard what went on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I thought it was
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner like
Now that ain't common, it's more Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
still Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I because
I'm in the hood politican, Impala
And I a black .45 on the side of my prada denim
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting money with my up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck Benzino and got the cover of The
me? If not then I guess you gotta kill me
But you ain't gon' do so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and impersonations on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta strapped?
On murder T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They know which hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's time for
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no cash
Say my now that's your fucking ass nigga
Kept your mouth and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I lay you down like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck from my
nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's when I'm Harry-O
And you don't that David 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when it's war he pull out knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
Suge had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and felt your little
Then he made you temporary replacement for
You a bitch, and that's to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning chain in Chicago
I call my nigga to get it back
He had the in his hands, and you ain't had the ten stacks
Picture that, I we was G-Unit
you ran and told 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy ain't to find
I Monica when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just beat
Got 20 bars to go, lay it like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
in store November, nigga fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the flow is outdatable,
homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If Eazy ever decide to return, I Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can me from taking it over
This is music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone