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 with Game

I 50 Cent
He reminds me
And Tony is Blues Clues
And Lloyd Banks is the Explorer
my friends

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

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

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll fold 'em, them *****z toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder Hova unless he sober
I'm the president, but this ain't the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring ears a little closer
Before you call a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was taught if a take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, then me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, throw him a concert in Madison square
Watch everybody through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the lines to 'em
they say? Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em
you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them *****z the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
dash in groups like Beanie Mac in Philly
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, that's I told the cops
So wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the glock
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, I heard that he was shot
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 when Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or me, but now the cops the only homies he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell but a GGG-u not!
big on the radio, to me you not
You can ask Mr. CCC who hot
Tony Yayo I bet 10 G's you
Run up on new 300 C you got
Stop hoping I fall, the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out before you see the
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
What i got in my high tops will make your breathing
I'm a gangsta rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like in there, they can't believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I up where my homeboy Eazy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then loosened the
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
It's about when the ruger clap, is back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you leaning back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got in heaven, you ready? Let's go
Drop them off, pop cristal wit Esko
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now the eulogy, beef is kinda foolish see
*****z their mouth about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping I proceed to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
Even bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
Then I go right back, ***** I pop
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I knew you changed, you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
a faggot ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw them off the Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, the phony NORE
You ain't the talk of New York, sixteens is boring
that shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On street doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** a rhyme dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he 50 tryna borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one more
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make beef mine
You got lucky with Ja, why you aint go at
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you fucked with that
Then you about your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
I
The underground is mine, I treat it home
the reason *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
And I'm far from but you can chop it and screw it
Do whatever to it, but it in the store the shit
'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is than music
Dre knew it, that boy hot like summer
Both in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm gunnin'
You can put it on if you want it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch shits sell out like a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid
We gon' see if he know how to DJ with ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, nothing 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
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you fucking Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off *****z on CD's and tapes
Ask to scratch a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cheese
Take the DJ off name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the replay
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every 50 on stage singing like
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to the holes in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk muddy waters like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam a M-E-T-H-O-D Man
So the lieutenant gotta ask for his
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a latin
if your left with the Aryans your ass will sting
And your cell is a 25 to lifer
They'll stab you at Folsom then fuck you on
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who and said he write my songs
He told Dre was gonna leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've kept for yourself
***** stop tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm blasting your ass to the one
Ten shots from the Mack empty the in the passenger
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and the doors on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, New York cab
Who's this *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac then who you
We getting tired of you talkin about who you
I'll use six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You went out with Vivica, months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, what to the thug?
Now you could in the club, him and Lloyd Banks hugging
got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm into slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
***** smack that ho like I'm Jackie-O
I don't wanna be cool, I don't wanna be you
I don't wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit
Don't you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can back to the block
Fresh Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

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

Now tell me do he got a
I think not, if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, be at this conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, Samantha Ronson
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me like I'm the
What to the old school? I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the like Common
Now that common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I can't
I'm in the hood politican, Impala
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my denim
Chip on my like I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting with my feet up
the throne, here my black Air Force
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I you gotta kill me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
When I wake the dead, everybody hats
We ya'll, can I get a hand clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which hole to up, when the K clap
I tried to you Young Buck, now it's time for payback
It go, how you from but you ain't got no cash nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
Kept mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga playing his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, shit up on the stereo
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David 'cause you your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
Muthafucka I'ma show you who the
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back to the NO
50 heard you on the bus and felt your little flow
Then he made you temporary for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit chain in
I call my Jojo 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 told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one shot of and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Shop
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm out of breath, like I just beat boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
Don't worry the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga Reebocks
I'm fly a Hummingbird on a tree 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
Remember first it was Buddens, then it was
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who want
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you want
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em in peace
From to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing Satan
And I slipped 'em the ace, you replace 'em
If Eazy decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the mountain top and put my in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from it over
This is crack music, go get the soda
300 and Runnin, nigga the wait is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone