Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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 Bodaga right there in Harlem
Got me a bootleg Banks and Young Buck CD
Took shit home, put it in my boom box
Thought I was bout to be on some Raheim shit
Man that 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 Bars and
loan me your ears for 15 minutes
Walk me

Here the breakdown, the doja, .45 in the holster
Hollow tips'll 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova he sober
Like I'm the president, but this the takeover
Now, there's the speaker, bring ears a little closer
Before you call this a diss, and you make pissed
Why would I do that? When I'm just the new cat
That was taught if a ***** take shots to shoot
Defending his yard, yeah his ground
I'm saying if you gonna retire, hand me the crown
Nah, let do it, then throw him a concert in Madison square
everybody sleep through it
We can go bar for bar, I'll let the speak to 'em
What they say? Bleek is let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the *****z that rapped in Philly?
See them with the soonies leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Beanie Mac in
?? said Curtis Jack in
Make a U-turn, I go back to Philly
I my cheese stake, that's what I told the cops
So they wouldn't get the 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
What's beef? Beef is I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, still 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 me or love me, but now the cops the only homies he got
it's 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 will make your breathing stop
I'm a slash rapper, check your CD shop
I'm like Elvis in there, they can't he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to George and spot
I picked up where my Eazy stopped
I saw the west coast, put the on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, then the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z when Dre producing a
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then up the pigs, tell them the rooster's back
Call Jadakiss, tell him that duke is
I'm by your side, no matter who comes strapped
Fuck Banks, it ain't about who can rap
about when the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you want me to die, is so?
Now you left leaning back, to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you Let's go
Drop them off, then pop cristal wit
I'm a say he hit me first, if me and Dre
All Nas said was he had a 3-4
Now that's the eulogy, beef is kinda see
*****z running their mouth about the fuck they gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you gon' see the captain with plans of getting me
Even behind bars, I'm still shine
I'm 10 years younger than Yayo, I get out, I'm
Then I go right back, I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you drop dimes
I knew you changed, when you started sleeping in vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my make collect calls
1-800-split a faggot wig
He got G-Unit wings, throw off the Queens Bridge
Now career is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You the talk of New York, your sixteens is boring
Take that shit off lingo, go to PC
And tell 50 you want a copy of Beef 3
I'm airing ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks after me
I'm a G-Unit toy
On Sesame doing voice overs
Bitch ass ***** need a rhyme dictionary, to his lines
Sound Oscar the Grouch, with them nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I first got
He got stuck, he called 50 borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you need help your rhymes
All he gon' you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make beef mine
You got with Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's the fact
Said he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked that
Then you lied your pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Like Son, go ask Busta
I from the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd 'em all, if I could bring Justo back
The is mine, I treat it like home
It's the *****z saying my name like Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it like
It's the reason *****z my name like Mike Jones
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
It's the *****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 shit
Gave 'em a hundred bars, they ain't think I do it
Came with two hundred, ***** is more than music
Even Dre it, that boy hot like summer
feet in the dirt, 300 Bars and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name I'm gunnin'
You can put it on skee if you it
air you out on Drama King, Mike, or Clue
And watch them shits sell out like a Air shoe
I told Flex when I catch the ***** Whoo Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the sidekick asking you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville
380 spill brains, when I pop shots
Outside NY, in front of cops
Or broad day in L.A., tell Em and Dre
***** bootlegging my music, ain't nothing for him to say
Took me off my own songs, then put it on his
So I'ma him out his house, put the beam on his face
Drop him off at Terror Squad, let him for the jakes
'cause when you with 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. Instant
Not the instant
I mean the machine that G-Unit use every time 50 on stage singing
only feel your shit just a lil bit
*****z only feel your just a lil bit
On my album 50 helped me a lil bit
on two songs, now back to some killa shit
My bananas, I kill a gorilla quick
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 ask for his strings
Take my advice, wear 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 your mate is a 25 to lifer
stab you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
And Goes On
Now back to the of the hour who lied and said he write my songs
He told Vibe Dre was gonna leave me on the
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
a move I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten shots the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
Fase yelling thats enough, let the bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the doors on the
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic, what
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The Dodge got a in it, Game got a Remy in 'em
In and out of lanes like a New cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
Who's this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake
Got his crew starving 'cause he aint the whole cake,
He Nas, ain't B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't Cube or Pac who you got?
We getting of you talkin about who you shot
I'll use another six bars to 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 ***** take us to the Candy Shop
man, what happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Lloyd Banks
got mad when The Game start buzzing
So fuck friends now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking we a family, Game had to go
***** I'll smack that ho I'm Jackie-O
'cause I don't wanna be cool, I wanna be you
I wanna shake hands, or wear your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, wanna be in your group
Just sit here and wait
To be gone, so I can head back to the
white Nike airs and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley on gold daytons, I was the first one with it
Four platinum, I done been there and did it
Came in the game and shitted, wiped my ass with it
They say the Lord givth, if Lord it away
So I build a house on top of Hip-Hop, wait for the day
*****z hating on me, they don't want to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So can put me in the squad car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can drive down way
the rock, nah this ain't no subliminal Jay
The too hot, and I want the winter to stay
I'm a cold ***** when I put the pen to the page
Similar to them shells going my gauge
I hand 'em off to Dre, he turned into granades
And Just Blaze, the boy got game
Like I close my eyes, and woke up in a Roc
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
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 thou break 'em
And the flow is hot like wit Satan
And the only thing I got spinning is
The hotter I get the more to snake 'em
So soon as the drop, watch where I take 'em
Swap meet, to get me some All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about what 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
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at this
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Samantha
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We ain't friends, I'm acting like Charles Bronson
Middle in the air, one hand on my Johnson
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old I thought it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the like Common
Now that ain't common, more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still shine diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I rebounded Rodman
It's still Aftermath, two feet in the shit.
I be mad, I ain't, I'm supposed to stop I 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 outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred like my wallet missing
Then re-up like kid before the
Continuously getting with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my black Air
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 that so muthafucka back
While I do B.I.G. and 'Pac impersonations on two
When I wake the dead, remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a clap?
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that murder T-I-P, you ASAP
They won't know which hole to patch up, when the K
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 fucking ass nigga
Kept your shut and I gave you a pass nigga
Now I gotta lay you down like the nigga
Buck, buck, buck my AK-47
This nigga playing with his life, I might have to put him in
Tryna play the game, talking up on the stereo
for burial, it's when I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that 'cause you love your life
Get my Vibe, when war he pull out butter knifes
I'ma show you who the gangsta
All you do is Inc., now who the wanksta?
When 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 flow
Then he made you temporary 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 ain't had the ten
that, I thought we was G-Unit
Then you ran and 50 that I did that shit
Ask C-Murder, the boy hard to find
I told when I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
his panties drop, when I run inside the Candy Shop
Fuck you, 50, Banks, Yayo, and the
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 like sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
Hurricanes in store November, nigga 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, no getting me back
I'm yelling the world, on my victory lap
Remember first it was Buddens, it was Bleek
Now it's muthafucka, yeah, who want beef?
Now whenever muthafucka, who see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, in peace
You don't war nigga, you want peace
So 'em the peace, capiche (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to east the is outdatable, irreplacable
Lyrical homicide, is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy decide to return, I remain Jayceon
A in the making, and the throne is for the taking
So I the mountain top and put my stake in
Got the weight of the world on my
Not a nigga nor a hoodrat bitch can stop me taking it over
is crack 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