Luyện nghe bài hát Burn (dedication 4)

Uh, hammer on the dresser, on the stove
I'm sitting on the counter purp out my nose
Red naked, in the bed flexin'
I say: "bitch I ain't impressed, you must of got the impression"
Uh, I with the BS, I'm flyer than PF
Man, we living in hell like a breath
Real niggas with money, real bitches with fake asses
If she don't wanna fuck, I get on my skateboard and I pass her
on the table, guns on the table
Bitch I'm on syrup, tell that hoe: "let go my ego"
And my girlfriend is a choppa, I finger that hoe
I am Tunechi, you had me at "hello"
Uh, drop top Maybach, like Ajax
Man I fuck with none of you niggas like rednecks
We got that work so come and get if we know you, you pay tax
I put a hole in your apple, that is? Apple Jacks
Uh, pussy nigga I'll you then dance at your funeral
Blood I'll have a nigga his own blood, communion
Wake up like Bone Thugs, I'll call bluff, pick the phone up
Her fake but they look real, cubic zirconia's
Run up in your house, spare the kids and the grown ups
Your bitch call me when she hot, Kreme doughnuts
out to my new hoes, shout out to my old hoes
I'll still wear ass out like a wardrobe
Bitch, what gon' say?
I'm still eating rappers on my fucking lunch
Bad yellow with a tongue like a snake
I let her suck my dick and then I fuck her to some

And then I let that Kush burn, let that Kush
Yeah I let that Kush
gasoline, bitch
The on fire, I'm in here getting higher
Young Money, bitch we at the top like

Uh, money on my mind, I ain't thinking 'bout no
I'm talking 'bout that scratch like my motherfuckin' throat
Uh, stop stuntin', if you ballin' buy your somethin'
on the same team like Tim Duncan
Shit get real, if you scared go to catholic
And if we want it, jack it like a padded room
Shoot your ass 100 and stand over you
Lil Tunechi so fly, I got
Burn bitch, AK in my grip
Leap if you like Kermit, sermons
Preach, reach and smoke your ass like Cheech
I be faded like bleach, barrel, Siamese
I like my obese, fuck that bitch like police
Fuck these haters with no grease, you get chin checked,
Money talks and mine talks like Robin Leach
That got me slow as Lisa Turtle, ask Screech
Uh, bank card heavy, my wallet like a
My girl got a fat cat, I that shit Garfield
bring the O.K. Corral to your doorbell
We pull triggers, not coattails, I lump sums, oatmeal
I'm stuntin', gettin' new
TRUKFIT money, Mountain Dew money, 'em
I get better like wine, I'm fire like cayenne
In the words of my nigga BP, hit a bitch with a car bomb
BOOM!
bitch
Niggas gon' talk, they ain't talking 'bout
Niggas bark, I go Mike Vick
Fuck them fuck-niggas on fuck-shit
a nigga dick for some TRUKFIT

And then I let that Kush burn, let that burn
Yeah I let that burn
Smoking gasoline,
The booth on fire, I'm in here getting
Holla at a nigga if you want that Oscar