Luyện nghe bài hát 300 Bars & Runnin'

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

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

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

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

Here the breakdown, pass the doja, .45 in the
Hollow fold 'em, them *****z they toy soldiers
Oh, that boy colder than Hova he sober
Like I'm the president, but this ain't the
Now, there's the speaker, bring your ears a little
you call this a diss, and you make Hova pissed
Why would I wanna do that? When I'm the new cat
That was if a ***** take shots to shoot back
Defending his yard, standing his ground
I'm if you gonna retire, then 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 Bleek is over let Chris and Neef do it
say the wrong thing, I'ma smack 'em silly
What you thought? Them was the only *****z that rapped in
See them *****z with the leave you wrapped in Philly
Then dash in groups like Mac in Philly
?? said Jack in Philly
Make a U-turn, I gotta go to Philly
I forgot my cheese stake, what 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 To Die, when I heard that he was shot
What's Beef is when I murk you on the spot
Labels signing many things, searching for they Pac
I put on the block
So I don't feel threatened Ludacris say he coming for the #1 spot
Ask 50, it get on top
You can hate me or love me, but now the the only homies he got
When it's we eat, we win, but we ain't lonely we pop
You sell records but a 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 I fall, hope the bleeding stop
And I hope you black out you see the cops
I High Top from Colors, I'm from Cedar Block
What i got in my high tops will make breathing stop
I'm a gangsta slash rapper, check your CD
I'm like Elvis in there, they believe he dropped
Now I'm moving on up to and Weezy's spot
I picked up where my homeboy stopped
I saw the coast, put the shit on my back
Sprayed Aftermath on it, loosened the strap
It get hot in here, let rap
Bring hell to *****z Dre producing a track
Take it to the streets, put the duece to your hat
Then call up the pigs, tell them the rooster's
Call Jadakiss, him that duke is back
I'm still by your side, no matter who strapped
Fuck Lloyd Banks, it about who can rap
It's about the ruger clap, is rufus back
I see what you thinkin, you me to die, is that so?
Now you left back, thanks to Fat Joe
You got reservations in heaven, you ready? 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, is kinda foolish see
*****z running their mouth about what the fuck gon' do to me
But quit the yapping before I to clapping
And you gon' see the with plans of getting me captured
Even behind bars, I'm still gon'
I'm 10 years than Yayo, I get out, I'm fine
I go right back, ***** I pop mines
How you gon' drop Olivia, you only dimes
I you changed, when you started sleeping in that vest dog
I don't need 50 Cent, my *****z make calls
1-800-split a ***** wig
He got wings, throw them off the Queens Bridge
Now your is over, career is over
We in QB, banging CNN in the
T-O-N-Y, that's the phony
You ain't the talk of New York, your sixteens is
Take shit off lingo, go back to PC
And tell 50 Cent you a copy of Beef 3
I'm their ass out on DVD
You wanna rhyme like Lloyd Banks repeat me
I'm a toy soldier
On Sesame street doing overs
Bitch ass ***** need a dictionary, to rehearse his lines
Sound like Oscar the Grouch, with nursery rhymes
We was in the studio, when I got signed
He got stuck, he called 50 borrow some lines
That's the wrong *****, when you help with your rhymes
All he tell you is say G-Unit one more time
Got mad 'cause I ain't wanna make your mine
You got lucky Ja, why you aint go at Shyne?
He freestyled from the pen, that's just the
he'd put you with your mom, and you ain't fucked with that
Then you lied about pops, he ain't never bust no cap
Like Father, Son, go ask Busta that
I knew the beginning not to trust those cats
I'd kill 'em all, if I could Justo back
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name Mike Jones
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason *****z saying my name like Mike
The underground is mine, I treat it home
It's the reason saying my name like Mike Jones
I
The is mine, I treat 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, ain't think I could do it
Came with two hundred, ***** this is than music
Even Dre knew it, boy hot like summer
Both feet in the dirt, 300 and Runnin
And I beef with any *****, say my name muthafuck I'm
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 a Air Jordon shoe
I told Funk Flex when I catch the ***** Kid
We gon' see if he how to DJ with bruised ribs
Don't hit me on the asking what you did
Get a gun or ask police to use his
Bloods gonna get ya
Bloods Bloods gonna get ya for that Shadyville chain
That 380 spill brains, I pop shots
NY, in front of hip-hop cops
Or broad day in L.A., I'ma 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 him out his house, put the beam on his face
him off at Terror Squad, let him scream for the jakes
'cause you fucking with Jayceon, you can believe in L.A.
For caking off on them CD's and tapes
Ask them to a record, you will see he fake
If 50 was Puffy, run and go get him a cheese cake
the DJ off your name, Mr. Instant replay
Not the instant
I mean the machine that use every time 50 on stage singing like
Bitches only feel your shit a lil bit
only feel your shit just a lil bit
On my album 50 me just a lil bit
Only on two songs, now back to some killa
My clips bananas, I kill a quick
Beating on your chest, I see to death, yep
Tell to make him a suit
Tell Reebock to make him some
Get him a head band, to cover the holes in his
He a dead man for thinking he can walk through muddy like Redman
Banks blacked out and let the gun blam without a Man
So the lieutenant ask for his strings
Take my advice, wear air max for the pen
you one of the Bloods, or a latin king
'cause if your left with the Aryans ass will sting
And your mate is a 25 to lifer
They'll you at Folsom then fuck you on Rikers
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 them for
stop acting tough before I stand over you
Show you how The live on top of The Massacre
Make a I'm blasting your ass to the last one
Ten from the Mack empty the rest in the passenger
yelling thats enough, let the coroner bag him up
Throw in Makaveli and lift the on the Maganum
Gun smoking, Fase think I'm locin' up
Reverse the '05 hurse on 41st and traffic,
Hip-Hop cops on my left, but I 'em up
The Dodge got a hemmy in it, Game got a in 'em
In and out of lanes a New York cab
I'm Mr. Ol' King, that New cab
this fake *****, on pictures with the Jake *****?
Got his crew starving 'cause he the whole cake, *****
He ain't Nas, B.I.G., ain't Jigga
If he ain't or Pac then who you got?
We getting tired of you talkin about who you
I'll use another six bars to you who you not
You ain't 50 Cent, he went out a gangsta
You went out with Vivica, three months after
Get Rich or Die Tryin, we you was hot
Now the ***** wanna take us to the Candy Shop
C'mon man, happened to the thug?
Now you could find in the club, him and Banks hugging
***** got mad when The Game start
So fuck making now I'm into throwing slugs
Olivia talking about we a family, had to go
***** I'll 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 your G-Unit shoes
Don't want you on my hooks, don't wanna be in group
Just wanna sit here and
To be gone, so I can head to the block
Fresh white Nike and the matching socks fitted

Pull the brim low, if they get it
Bentley Coup on gold daytons, I was the one with 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 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 Jayceon to play
And the DA waiting on Jayceon to make a
So they can put me in the car and lock me away
Give me a odd job in the pen for pay
Let me out so I can down criminal way
Pushing the rock, nah this no subliminal Jay
The summer too hot, and I want the 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, 'cause the boy got
Like I close my eyes, and up in a Roc chain
Now to reality, my gun and my vest
And if diamonds are forever, I'm Kanye West
Take a at my chest, a hundred thou at jacob
Whole got chains, a hundred thou can't break 'em
And the flow is hot that wit Satan
And the only I got spinning is Daytons
The hotter I get the more to snake 'em
So soon as the beat drop, watch I take 'em
Compton Swap meet, to get me All-Stars
When in the house, they callin all cars
'cause they heard about what on in D.C.
about Hot 97, my beef with 50

Now me do he got a conscience?
I think not, 'cause if he did I wouldn't be in this nonsense
Wouldn't be in Harlem, wouldn't be at conference
I'd rather be pushing rock, like Samantha
50 whispered in my ear, we still bonding
We friends, I'm just acting like Charles Bronson
Middle finger in the air, one hand on my
Hip-Hop police on me I'm the convict
What happened to the old school? I it was rhyming
Doug E. Fresh and Daina Dane on the corner Common
Now ain't common, it's more like Top Ramen
The flow is noodles, I throw it up like
And I still like diamonds
They kicked me out of G-Unit and I like 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 hood politican, Impala
And I keep a black .45 on the side of my prada
Chip on my shoulder I'm fresh outta prison
Dollar vision, blow a hundred thou like my missing
Then like kid before the d-cup
Continuously money with my feet up
Chasing the throne, here my Air Force
I said fuck 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 impersonations on two tracks
When I the dead, everybody remove hats
We miss ya'll, can I get a hand
Now back to rap, why I gotta stay
On that T-I-P, kill you ASAP
They won't know which to patch up, when the K clap
I tried to you Young Buck, now it's time 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 down like the nigga
Buck, buck, from my AK-47
This nigga with his life, I might have to put him in heaven
Tryna play the game, talking shit up on the
Prepare for burial, it's I'm reincarnating Harry-O
And you don't want that David you love 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 Suge had you, you stranded on Tha Row
Juve you for dead and went back to the NO
50 you on the tour bus and felt your little flow
he made you temporary replacement for Yayo
You a bitch, and hard to swallow
And you got robbed for your spinning G-Unit in Chicago
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 hard to find
I told Monica I catch him The Boy is Mine
Take one of Brandy and pop
Watch his panties drop, when I run the Candy 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 sheet rock
Don't worry about the flow, the boy he hot
Hurricanes in store November, fuck Reebocks
I'm fly like a Hummingbird on a top
The new Hov, the new B.I.G., the new 'Pac, I need three
280 in, ain't no getting me
I'm yelling fuck the world, on my lap
first it was Buddens, then it was Bleek
Now it's whoever muthafucka, yeah, who beef?
Now muthafucka, who wanna see me?
In the coffin, body exhausted, resting in
You don't want war nigga, you peace
So give 'em the peace, (sp?)
Let 'em rest in
From west to the flow is outdatable, irreplacable
homicide, hell is hot, I'm boxing with Satan
And I 'em the ace, you cannot replace 'em
If Eazy ever to return, I remain Jayceon
A king in the making, and the is for the taking
So I the mountain 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
is crack music, go get the baking soda
300 Bars and Runnin, nigga the is over
I'm gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone