Luyện nghe bài hát Blaze'in Microphones

Im sweet cinnamon when Im spittin this lyrical venum,
giving the blues like denim,
when Im killin em, em with these syllable,
of adrenaline spillin off my spiritual tongue,
then em like penicillin,
plus Im trying to reach the like Gilligan,
God willin the spiritual healin, will stop the dealing,
and killing, because Im feeling like Im ready to my mind,
so bullets be flying, and rydas be dying,
gotta make a difference, for instance, the inmates in make bad decisions,
for of wisdom, so I cut them open, and make incisions,
fill em with spiritualism, tell em the one thats arisen,
how they can be free in they spirit, and they sins forgiven,
by the one who on the cross,
'cause even they were into all their drinking and smoking,
he loved them even they were lost,
so please listen to me, and stop a G,
'cause I got remedy on how yall can be free.

Blazing microphones, bringing nothing but heat from the west coast,
Chase beats, Bone lyrics Vito Corleone,
we be running things so act you all know,
Boneyard be stopped now.

Im not a witness, but I witness for Jehovah,
in the day, the 1st to slang cane and the baking soda,
but nowadays, I like the word,
like a drug dealers, slangin; holy on the curb,
eyes off the holy ghost, contact smoke,
gotcha off my rims, crush eyes and my rope,
Im gifted with flows and wrist is frozen,
I thought you all dawg, what, Im Gods chosen,
favored, standing with the elite,
thats stand apart dawg, anointed, bring the to the streets,
into entertainin the the fame or set you claimin,
tha of namin, unless the name Im naming
is on the throne and reining, painting a picture for Gs bangin,
og how the Lord can save em, train em a Baltimore Raven, engraving,
the name of Jesus they heart, 'cause its breakin,
plus is waitin, anticipatin, and hatin,
but once trapped they's no escapin'

I been doing this for 12 years, it aint yall,
to hit records that are off the hizzy yall,
especially them bustas sippin on that haterade,
talkin behind back and trying to stop you on a day to day,
I dont make for em playa hatas anyway,
is for killers and thugs, thats sippin on the Alize,
run a ways and essays down in prison,
why them, they the ones in of a physician,
and I know the perfect yall
can heal you when you answer to the alter call,
he can, fill all the and void in your heart,
why I rhyme out of a need and not love of the art,
so listen, my mission is soul fishing,
so when the rapture happens, will be on the back of milk cartons missing.