Luyện nghe bài hát AM // Radio

Nineteen, still gettin' out the crib
Ripped off my bib, spit out my food, hiccup and
Urine burnin', I could the liquor in this
Cats tryna' pick up the fist
this dude out
Rappers stoop to get to your crib
Now it's like who's face? who's too sauced
Distort thoughts, on my on the asphalt
Back when I'd slack more, rock my or my ass
Everytime, I rap I
Back when I catch Cor', I always had
Dippin' on cops in my shorts
So tell my mom I ahad to make it
I lie every night about the lime-light so I could lie at
And tell my Pops' I take advice
Keep my head screwed on tight, abuse these
See me, I'm the contusion
A cat to smack a mic and catch my fuckin' when I'm losing height
Ratking, never hype, no
It's and I do it right
Ratking, yeah, I do it nice,

Bitch, I before I rapped it
You'd take me before your
Bet twenty hots on Daddy
To go Nolia Clap them, probably cold and passive
Cause' Pops' was the one got to me
Feeling like he passed it and when I'm cornered, it's action
I was kinda' out the game, I'ma put the quarter back in the slot
In 09', we took the 7 to the Dussy 17 to the
Bitch, if yo' had Supreme, we was the reason he copped it
And nowadays, I'm on a lyrics to box with
And some pretty bitches that ain't if it's a hit and run
I got to go cause' I do the crying bro
She Mario, I'm tryna' keep the to a minimum
Piggies come, bet I'm splittin' than I finish rum
me some Indica, nuggets on my fingers and my shirt like they was chicken crumbs
The spinnin', finna' yak if I don't hit the blunt
Got the chin wagon, chances of me getting up
After this, mind in the trash next to where my fuckin' went
Doc's fanatics, half-a-Xanax when I'm six hours or more
out on the tour, got kicked out of the morgue
Spit cattle manure shit, shit, rally the
the corpses