Luyện nghe bài hát Blaze'in Microphones

Im sweet cinnamon when Im spittin this lyrical venum,
giving rappers the blues denim,
when Im killin em, fillin em with syllable,
synonyms of spillin off my spiritual tongue,
numbing em like penicillin,
plus Im trying to the lost like Gilligan,
God willin the healin, will stop the drug dealing,
and killing, Im feeling like Im ready to loose my mind,
so many bullets be flying, and be dying,
gotta make a difference, for instance, the inmates in make bad decisions,
for lack of wisdom, so I cut open, and make incisions,
em with spiritualism, tell em about 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 when they were into all their and smoking,
he loved even while they were lost,
so listen to me, and stop dissin a G,
'cause I got they on how yall can be free.

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

Im not a Jehovah witness, but I for Jehovah,
in the day, the 1st to slang cane and the baking soda,
but nowadays, I like the word,
like a drug dealers, holy rock on the curb,
blurred off the holy ghost, contact smoke,
gotcha tripppin off my rims, crush 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 game of namin, unless the name Im
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 across heart, 'cause its breakin,
plus is waitin, anticipatin, and hatin,
but once they trapped no escapin'

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