Luyện nghe bài hát Blaze'in Microphones

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

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

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

I been doing this for 12 years, it easy yall,
to make hit records that are off the yall,
especially when them bustas on that haterade,
talkin behind your and trying to stop you on a day to day,
I dont make for em playa hatas anyway,
this is for killers and thugs, 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,
thats why I rhyme out of a need and not of the art,
so listen, my mission is soul fishing,
so when the rapture happens, faces will be on the of milk cartons missing.