Luyện nghe bài hát Blaze'in Microphones

Im sweet like cinnamon when Im spittin this venum,
giving rappers the blues denim,
Im killin em, fillin em with these syllable,
synonyms of adrenaline spillin off my tongue,
then numbing em penicillin,
Im trying to reach the lost like Gilligan,
God willin the healin, will stop the drug dealing,
and killing, because Im like Im ready to loose my mind,
so many be flying, and rydas 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,
fill em spiritualism, tell em about the one thats arisen,
how they can be free in spirit, and have they sins forgiven,
by the one who on the cross,
'cause even they were into all their drinking and smoking,
he loved them even while they lost,
so please to me, and stop dissin a G,
'cause I got they on how yall can be free.

Blazing microphones, bringing but that heat from the west coast,
Chase beats, Bone lyrics like Corleone,
we be running things so act you all know,
cant be stopped now.

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

I been doing for 12 years, it aint easy yall,
to hit records that are off the hizzy yall,
especially when them bustas on that haterade,
talkin behind your back and trying to you on a day to day,
I dont make music for em hatas anyway,
this is for killers and thugs, thats on the Alize,
run a ways and essays down in prison,
why them, the ones in need of a physician,
and I know the perfect doctor
that can heal you when you answer to the 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, faces be on the back of milk cartons missing.