Luyện nghe bài hát Blaze'in Microphones

Im sweet like 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,
then em like penicillin,
plus Im to reach the lost like Gilligan,
God willin the spiritual healin, stop the drug dealing,
and killing, because Im feeling like Im to loose my mind,
so bullets 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, 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 when they were into all their drinking and smoking,
he loved even while they were lost,
so please to me, and stop dissin a G,
'cause I got they on how yall can be free.

Blazing microphones, bringing nothing but that heat 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 witness, but I witness for Jehovah,
back in the day, the 1st to cane and the baking soda,
but nowadays, I preachin the word,
like a drug dealers, slangin; holy on the curb,
eyes blurred off the ghost, contact smoke,
gotcha tripppin off my rims, eyes and my rope,
plus Im gifted with and wrist is frozen,
I thought you all knew dawg, what, Im chosen,
highly favored, with the elite,
thats stand dawg, anointed, bring 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, painting a for Gs bangin,
og how the Lord can save em, train em like a 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 this for 12 years, it aint easy yall,
to hit records that are off the hizzy yall,
especially when them 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,
this is for and thugs, thats sippin on the Alize,
run a ways and essays locked in prison,
why them, they the ones in of a physician,
and I know the doctor 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 only is soul fishing,
so when the happens, faces will be on the back of milk cartons missing.