Luyện nghe bài hát YM Banger

(Gudda Gudda)

Yeah, Ok Im to the left, fla-flag in my right pocket
Star Treck fly, unidentified flying
Im all about my decimals
Retarded in the booth, say I got a special flow
Sicker than your average, you rappers is ass
spit crack, and you niggas is crack addicts
The simple
You cut the and I rake in the green, like Im rakin the grass in
Pretty bitches damn near feint they passin
my whip Martin but the first name Aston
Potato niggas get mashed when Im spazzin
Think you fucking me put your cash in
Nah I it
I was young and reckless when Pete say he was it
You is Ducks, Howards, Cowards
Kill the competition and shower niggas with
This rap shit is
Gudda, Bitch!

(Lil Wayne)

Uh, back in it
Hollygrove Black
Black clothes, Black
semi,
Ive never sat in
would offend me
Try Maybach or
Bitch I got stacks,
on Paychecks
And I still payback
And I dont play that
I on ASAP
And you dont do shit but get all day
Put some shoes on my bullets now they your way
YM Young Mula, Money all day
Where the so sweet, like honey on yay
one of yall say, you want drama Im honoured
I blitz ass, like a muthaficking lineman
Stack of paychecks, with a whole of commas
Still wear red, like a old
Fuck shittin on ya, dump the whole on ya
Wee-Weezy F bitch, I'm hotter than Uganda
Ughhh!!!

(Jae Millz)

Ma-Mama aint me to make homies
She made me to make
So doing my Extra-curicular activity
Bulldozer boy, and the Target is the
Two things I Love in the World, Head and Victory
You aint doing it big and broke kidding me
Your whip aint up to date, and your hoes look Mr. T
This is Misery, no Bates
at me sideways, my money'll slap ya straight
Yeah, Im a Big so you know I smash your ace
Leave the club ya girl, send her home with an ashy face
is a gamble, but its my casino
Pretend that your the loser, I hope that she got
I hope the game got insurance cause Ima kill it
And all you wack ass rap niggas dying it
Im so harlem, eating but starving
Pockets fat as fuck, all they do is eat margarine
Millz!

(Tyga)

Say-Say-Say, Put the
Say,Put the in the pot
Crank up the
Burn the song from a
Its finger hot
His flip cause the nigga flop
My shit hit, like the was soft
Niggas cotton
She drawers cause she poppin off
Her cross guard, but, I dont stop at all
I smash in the car, fuck the fucking law
I bet daddy gone, who make it done
The rocky shit we up on
on em like hay in the barn
Hey they say money talks
And, man you speak at all
You at mini-malls
My style two up, like using analogues
I wreck shit, for the recognition
as my witness, say envision
I bore you niggas flicker
I melt
Tyga aint drippin