Luyện nghe bài hát All in The Mind

[erick
Oh.. yeahhuhh!
Def

Chorus: sermon

all in the mind.. (pump pump, lickin shots!) *7x*
(pump pump, shots)

[erick
Aiyyo it's the master rap maniac, fat like dat
my habitat, with the funk track
From the boondocks, when I rocks my styles out the
Who who? I hear knockin at my door
It be soup, a black human bein
I think it's about for y'all to see him

Sometimes I get with the flow, I never know
They yell hoe, assumin the motions of a cool
Notions of a cool, the s, ohhhhhh
Never come test, noooooooo, cause the best'll have to
Go out the rest, nestea and a bag of sess for me
Ackninckulous, I kill the weeds in my

[erick
Back on the rebound, it's the funkdullah
Old schooler, sole/soul than dr. scholl-ah
Freakin wicked so it sticks in dome
On the microphone so I take it home
neglect, just respect, the mic check
Don't forget, I still snap and come correct
I leave the burnin (burnin)
Green eyed bandit, my ? full name is erick

Erick sermon, with the preaching
I'm fuckin up people's without speaking, without speaking
Clearly, loudly, crowd around the speaker
To hear me freak the, note like
But sweeter, sixty phoneta, if you
Peep the, jams and you the fields
With the roots and uh, my is soup, and uh
I like orange juice or tropicana, and uh

[erick
breaker, shh, I hear some static
Stop and get my automatic, the one from the attic
And shoot, or be killed, and if I ill I might
A bloodspill so I have to and get
disgusting on the microphone
Whyyyyyyyyy, it's onnnnn (it's on, it's on)
It's on (it's on, it's on, on, it's on!!)

The industry is a trick, and is on the dick
A cheap trick, like ? like ?
I it, everyone, wants me to sound like
A ? , I'm dyin, before I get up behind
It's crushin up the rush of the in my mind
and trust - blind, think and trust - my, nine
Because, nine lives nine
Fine rhymes equal the figures
Yeah the cash, I hold a bold stash
Yeah pockets next to my year old ass
Yeah, God the child with his own
God bless the and outsiders who zone
caps, get bucked in the dome
Lick a shot, in his mad crazy chrome

Chorus (+ soup over)

Like that, but it's all
Words can kill more pens, than guns, and
And foes, God knows, I chose the
rose, still froze-n, chose-n, you
S-o-u and the p, e,
sermon, kickin a rhyme this way
Yeah! it's all in, mind
all in, my mind
all in, my mind..