Luyện nghe bài hát Bottle of Humans

(Chorus)
I've been so places
In my and time
Yes, I've a lot of songs
I've some bad rhymes

Top of the
Yet I aint never left my to turn and look back
Every second page is
Perfected writ
In the perfect I set the perfect mood
And in perverted abodes, I rogue
clothes and sing songs of underdepression love
Chemical imbalanceship,
My scientist fiction, I kick raps that's down to Earth and
The kids that get are the only ones that wanna listen
My words are my world, believe it or not mean a lot to some
Can't say that I'm ahead of time, I fear that my time will come
Can't exist outside the bottle, you'll crack under
No aggression, why got to learn,
if they things won't get any better
to God burn objects of animal animating
in a still life picture of the La tar pit
Walking the of my red carpet
are distress signals spanning you and I
Inversatile if anyone here's a soul survivor of a dying
A galaxy called (In that belt called creativity)
But it's not a corpse, snuffed by a cold world, I keep warm
By burning dead smelling the beats and never cess
So, um, you can walk the until the building no longer remains
My people are my people, comrades, and allies, the are drawn
This is my gold tank, I go don't belong
I'm by most, hated by many, endured by the rest
Police in skin, I'm so East,
then why did I end up on the West???
Don't sacrifice my cadence,
and sentence structure of my rhymes, etc.
ANTICON, music for the advancement of mankind
than an egomanical sarcastic label for a movement
So when the chain still
like a million dead corpses and marching
To burn the walls of the village and storm the castle,
run up the
'em to the river, now we can spawn
This premillenium tension, it's the result of too much free time,
On dusty fingers, and it'll be a wonderful
A million bleeding composing prose in blood
To live and die a thousand

(Chorus)

been to Hell?
This is a black-and-white photo album outlines in
The is dead
Instructed look at the scene of the massacre for forgiveness,
no
No degrading anybody, everybody's in the alleyway for the Sole
??? watch me rip it and mark my words in white
Gawking at reflections in insurrections getting bad ones
This spoken word, it's the reinvention of Sugar Hill
Right now, your is transfixed upon my hips
And this is Sole, and we're love right now,
so I need to take her to the hotel
is a love song, I pass out roses with the thorns in my flesh
It's these are groupies, I'm a mammal,
my whole life's a set
The Earth's an orb in the sky, so gets to my head
The is my A&R, by the time I fall off, I'll probably dead
It's been a long time since those mountain pipe dreams were stuffed in
Now my culture's pierced, by the greatest I've ever known
nothing personal, hip-hop design has gotten vain,
So emcees I feeling you, if I don't know your real name
aint dead, the industry's just wack,
indie hip-hop's a demo
Keep your set
What do you move, rappers, minds or posteriors?
I'm a fan, corporate insider, and brain nigga
It's springtime we're the centaurs and people in skirts
This is the verge, the point
When your favorite emcees be lazy anymore
is psychopath, this is psych rap
With violence,
My life is stranded on an island with no
and women feeding my ego or what little is left
No, this is rap and my shirt's unbuttoned
stealing moments of brilliance in the limelights
choppin' up keys to break the
Maybe this is instrumental hip-hop and I don't know when to up
Or this is turntable music,
scratch the I's and I'll scratch
Or what if this is honest music, and I mean every other I say
take anything literal, out-of-context,
just it for what it is
If you want labels, we can divide, I'll still be
Bottom line it's all art (This is a and a bad song)

(Chorus)