Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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

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

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

the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, boy colder than Hova unless he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
Before you this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why I wanna do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to back
his yard, yeah standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then hand me the crown
Nah, let Bleek do it, then throw him a concert in Madison
Watch everybody sleep it
We can go bar for bar, let the lines speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is over let and Neef do it
They say the wrong thing, smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them *****z 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 stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the dogs start searching for the
And I can't forget, B.I.G. got by the cops
Even I was Ready To Die, when I heard he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels many things, still searching for they Pac
I put purple on the
So I don't feel threatened when Ludacris say he for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the cops the only he got
When beef 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 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 out before you see the cops
I ain't High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar
What i got in my high tops will your breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't 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 the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z Dre producing a track
it to the streets, put the duece duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it ain't who can rap
about when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see you thinkin, you want me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop off, then pop cristal 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, is kinda foolish see
*****z running their about what the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I proceed to
And you gon' see the captain with of getting me captured
behind bars, I'm still gon' shine
I'm 10 years 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, when you started in that vest dog
I need 50 Cent, my *****z make collect calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got G-Unit wings, them off the Queens 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, your is boring
Take shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you want a copy of 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat after me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing voice
Bitch ass ***** need a 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 called 50 tryna borrow some
That's the *****, when you need help with your rhymes
All he gon' tell you is say G-Unit one time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your beef
You got lucky with Ja, why you go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, just the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't with that
Then you lied about your pops, he never bust no cap
Father, Like Son, go ask Busta that
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I it like home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
I
The underground is mine, I it like home
the reason *****z saying my name 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 hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
with two hundred, ***** this is more than music
Even Dre knew it, that boy hot 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 Drama King, Mike, or
And watch them shits sell out like a Air Jordon
I told Funk Flex when I the ***** Whoo Kid
We see if he know how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask 50's to use his
'cause Bloods get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of cops
Or day in L.A., I'ma tell Em and Dre
This ***** bootlegging my music, nothing for him to say
me off my own songs, then put it on his tapes
So take him out his house, put the beam on his face
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause when you with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For off *****z on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to scratch a record, you will see he
If 50 was Puffy, you'd run and go get him a cake
Take the DJ off your name, Mr. replay
Not the replay
I mean the that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel shit just a lil bit
*****z only your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to killa shit
My clips bananas, I a gorilla quick
Beating on chest, I see to your death, yep
Tell Ecko to him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him boots
Get him a head band, to cover the in his head
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through 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, never air max for the pen
Unless you one of the Bloods, or a king
'cause if your left with the Aryans your ass will
And your cell mate is a 25 to
They'll stab you at Folsom fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the coward of the hour who lied and said he my songs
He told Vibe Dre was leave me on the shelf
So he gave me all his hits, you should've them for yourself
stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The Documentary on top of The Massacre
Make a move I'm your ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 hurse on and traffic, what
cops on my left, but I pass 'em up
The got a hemmy in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of like a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on with the Jake *****?
Got his starving 'cause he aint the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin who you shot
use another six bars to tell you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out like a
You went out Vivica, three months after wanksta
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the same ***** take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd hugging
***** got mad when The start buzzing
So fuck making friends now I'm throwing slugs
Olivia about we a family, Game 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 shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in your
Just wanna sit and wait
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike airs and the matching socks

the brim low, if they don't get it
Bentley Coup on daytons, I was the first one with it
times platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, then my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if take it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, I'll for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want Jayceon to
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the squad car and me away
me a odd job in the pen for minimum pay
Let me out so I can drive criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this ain't no Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the winter to
I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going into my
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned them granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I my eyes, and woke up in a Roc chain
Now back to reality, my gun and my
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a look at my chest, a hundred thou at
Whole crew got chains, a thou 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 drop, watch where I take 'em
Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When Game in the house, they all cars
'cause they heard what went on in D.C.
Heard about Hot 97, my beef 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be involved in this nonsense
be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this conference
I'd rather be rock, like Samantha Ronson
50 in my ear, like we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm just acting like Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one on my Johnson
police on me like I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina on the corner like Common
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I it up like vomit
And I still shine like
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded like
It's Aftermath, two feet in the paint shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to I can't because
I'm in the politican, Impala liffin'
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my shoulder like I'm fresh outta
Dollar vision, a hundred thou like my wallet missing
Then re-up kid before the d-cup
getting money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
I said Benzino and got the cover of The Source
Feel me? If not then I guess you gotta me
But you gon' do that so muthafucka move back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac on two tracks
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now to rap, why I gotta stay strapped?
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know hole to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to spare you Young Buck, now it's for payback
It go, how you from Cashville but you ain't got no nigga?
Say my name now that's your fucking ass
your mouth shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you like the last nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga 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 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 you who the gangsta
All you do is Murder Inc., now who the
When had you, you were stranded on Tha Row
Juve left you for dead and back to the NO
50 heard you on the tour bus and your little flow
Then he made you replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and that's hard to
And you got for your spinning G-Unit chain in Chicago
I call my nigga Jojo to get it
He had the shit in his hands, and you 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 hard to
I told Monica when I catch him The Boy is
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy
you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the cops
And Olivia, I for a man she hot
Now I'm running out of breath, like I just boxed
Got 20 bars to go, lay it down like sheet
Don't about the flow, the boy know he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga Reebocks
I'm fly like a on a tree top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need spots
280 in, ain't no me back
I'm fuck the world, on my victory lap
Remember it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna 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 rest in
west to east the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with
And I slipped 'em the ace, you cannot 'em
If ever decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the throne is for the
So I climb the top and put my stake in
Got the of the world on my shoulder
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me from taking it
This is crack music, go get the baking
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone