Luyện nghe bài hát Blaze'in Microphones

Im sweet like cinnamon when Im spittin this venum,
giving rappers the like denim,
Im killin em, fillin em with these syllable,
synonyms of adrenaline off my spiritual tongue,
then numbing em penicillin,
plus Im to reach the lost like Gilligan,
God willin the healin, will stop the drug dealing,
and killing, because Im feeling like Im ready to my mind,
so many bullets be flying, and be dying,
gotta make a difference, for instance, the inmates in prisons 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 in they spirit, and have they sins forgiven,
by the one who on the cross,
'cause when they were into all their drinking and smoking,
he loved them 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 but that heat from the west coast,
beats, Bone lyrics like Vito Corleone,
we be running things so act you all know,
Boneyard cant be now.

Im not a witness, but I witness for Jehovah,
back in the day, the 1st to slang cane and the soda,
but nowadays, I like the word,
like a dealers, slangin; holy rock on the curb,
blurred off the holy ghost, contact smoke,
gotcha off my rims, crush eyes and my rope,
plus Im with flows and wrist is frozen,
I thought you all knew dawg, what, Im chosen,
highly favored, standing the elite,
thats stand apart dawg, anointed, the word to the streets,
aint entertainin the the fame or set you claimin,
tha of namin, unless the name Im naming
is Jesus on the and reining, painting a picture for Gs bangin,
og how the Lord can em, train em like 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 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 your back and to stop you on a day to day,
I dont make music for em hatas anyway,
is for killers and thugs, thats sippin 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 yall
that can heal you when you to the alter call,
he can, fill all the and void in your heart,
thats why I out of a need and not love of the art,
so listen, my only mission is fishing,
so the rapture happens, faces will be on the back of milk cartons missing.