Luyện nghe bài hát Stack It to the Ceiling

Ever since I woke up this morning, been on
Twist the cap up off my weed jar, and smoked a
Took a shower and got gone in the wind, like Wynn
I'm from the of California where we be hustlin and grittin'
Gettin' women, mobbin' and mackin', droppin' and stackin'
Wheelin' and and makin' a killin' trying to hit a million
Perkin' and illin' and and chillin' in front of the apartment building
and totin' and toast the lean oh what a feelin'
He's a fraudulent, I'm
He a simp, he a sap, he
I'm a boss, I'm a factor, I'm a percent
I'm a hustler like Larry
Getting money's my habit, I in the traffic
up like a tablet, my bankroll is massive
If I walked in a loser, mayne I'm gonna out a winner
I ball like a hooper man, up like a printer
I ain't wrapped too tight, I'm touched, I'm
Mental health, argue with my cursin' out myself
My psychologist got a psychologist, too
I'm one of one, I'm not you

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
Trying to get my right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Act like you
Dippin' and bobbin' and
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
Stack it to the

and blowing on some good bud
Smokin' on a strain you never of
Exclusive shit, I got it from my
You drop my on my rug
That's twenty pushups, that's a party
You can do 'em or do 'em now
I don't (who?)
Aliens me, that's a no-no
They'll try to sneak me and turn my brains adobo
see me solo, if you do I'm not
Best believe E-40 with his .45
I'm ADHD, something to calm my nerves
You libel to find me at my kid's meeting smellin' like herb
I stay plastered, but I'm all my paper
Liquor aroma, that's me in the
More whips than Auto Trader, that's I got
Driveway, like a car lot
My bite is than my bark
Thought you thought,
Bitch you full of shit like a dog
ass poodle, square as a cubicle
Weirdo,
Why do suckas, be all in a one's business?
While these sideline niggas be always trying to count a hustler's
Flappin' their like some bitches, man they saps
Dudes be running their mouth like that, we 'em quack-quacks
That's how a bitch smack-smacked
in the naps, clapped
Head put on flap, Fix-a-Flat can't bring 'em back (bitch)

Act like you
Dippin' and bobbin and
In and out of traffic, from the morning to the
to get my paper right, my nigga
Stack it to the

Act you know
Dippin' and and weavin'
In and out of traffic, the morning to the evening
Trying to get my paper right, my
it to the ceiling

...to the