Luyện nghe bài hát BRACKETS

Lotta happens, like, being in show business
A lot of happens, like, like, I make a lot of money, you know
And I'm really about it
And I'm not bragging, I just wanna say
I make a so--- fuck, ridiculous
But wait, wait a minute, a minute
Hey, if my father was alive today, I would go and say
"Dad, I wanna tell you how much I made"
You what he'd say? You's a lying motherfucker
Jerome Lewis didn't make much money
in here, get your ass out the house
Coming here that bullshit, hah

Niggas on me, I ain't used to that
a couple people wanna shoot for that
I say "No, no, no, chill, it ain't no for that"
Them niggas blow they don't need me for that
And if it work for them, well shit, I'm with that
how they feel, I ain't got shit to do with that
I just sit on cool and watch my paper stack
And off how much bread them crackers take from that

(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

It's been a long time since I have felt way
About but now, but now
I'm my mind, the days are warm
The are cold, the lost is found, I'm found
Lord knows I need something to fill void
Lord knows I need to fill this void
knows I need something to fill this void
Lord knows I need something to this void

Hell yeah boy, I'm a goddamn now
Hell yeah, nigga, they can't tell me shit now, bro, no, fuck that
Bitch, got my first motherfuckin' dollar check nigga
I'm lit boy, you crazy as hell
Hold up, my phone real quick, it's my Unc'
Sam and shit
"What's up Unc'? Yup. Hey, I you that check was coming in,
I gotchu it came in. Goddamn, I'm a man of my word. Goddamn,
I told you I'ma have it, and goddamn, I'ma it for you. Hell,
shit, right. Now, how much was it though? Uh huh. Huh? Half?
Half You crazy, boy, you crazy. Bitch,
you as fuck. Bitch, bitch, you better suck half my dick!

Yeah, I pay taxes, so much taxes, shit don't sense
Where do my dollars go? You see lately, I been convinced
I guess they say my dollars supposed to build roads and
But my niggas barely graduate, ain't got the tools
Maybe 'cause the tax that I make sure I send
Get spent hirin' some teachers that don't look them
And the curriculum be tricking them, them I spend
Got us learning about the heroes with the whitest of
One thing about the men controlling the pen
That write history, they always to white-out they sins
Maybe we'll never see a black man in the White House
I'll write a check to the IRS, my get slim
Damn, do I even a say 'bout where it's goin'?
Some older nigga told me to start
I said "Democracy is too slow"
If I'm givin' y'all hard-earned bread, I wanna know
Better yet, let me decide, bitch, it's
Let me pick the things I'm from an app on my screen
Better that than letting wack congressman never seen
Dictate where my go,
straight into the palms of some company that make guns
that the country And then
up in my hood, making bloody clothes
Stray bullet hit a boy with a snotty nose
From the concrete, he was rose
Now his body froze and nobody knows what to his mother
He did good at the white man schools unlike his
Who was in the streets all day, not using rubbers
So now, he got two on the way
Still sleep on covers in his house
She can't take this shit no more, she him out
On the morning of the funeral, just as she's out
Wiping tears away, her keys and sunglasses
She that she gotta file her taxes, damn

(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)
(Whoa whoa whoa, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)