Luyện nghe bài hát Cliff Notes

Get, get, get it?
Get, get, get it?
Bronson Statik
Get, get, get it?
Get, get, get it?
.its all the same!

Pussy rap, damn beaver trap,
That is gone, Im here to bring the fever back,
To the streets, up the big whips.
rum the same ships,
Two tongue grip, brother on shit,
Better move on chick, or is all trick,
.even in my
I spin the shit to make you mother down sweat,
red, no pack but a cheese
Fat ass fucking pussy shes dead,
foot, looking like an Indian,
Cool form the Caribbean.
jackets, made from an amphibian,
.money, with my comedian.
Break it down, on the Dallas,
Deeping in your parlors, chilling scholars.

Get it?
I am not illiterate,
Not, not!
Not a little bit!
up, I make the music just for you!
Nothing, nothing an idiot!
Get it?
I am not illiterate,
Not, not!
Not a little bit!
Straight up, I make the music for you!
Nothing, nothing an idiot!

me John Bon popping out the Volvo,
Retched on the leg, for the po-po!
Sissy, you found a as a loco,
Im sorry, but I never used to. the coco!
Urban hippie, muffle with the thumbs,
Seven grans a purple till my neck will my feet on them.
Super bitch, Portuguese,
Suck a like an elephant. three tones.
My pussy whistle like my the window,
. Im lighting up the
And when I go inside I think I might just Nintendo,
Call a Shwaty from my and play with my
Ah, let me catch my little breath as she wont accept the kick
Cause destiny is for
Me, you see I spin like shit,
you fear me or you the kid.

Get it?
I am not illiterate,
Not, not!
Not even a bit!
up, I make the music just for you!
Nothing, nothing an idiot!
Get it?
I am not illiterate,
Not, not!
Not even a bit!
Straight up, I make the music for you!
Nothing, nothing an idiot!

Mind like Watson, in the new
Van Dame
Spin kick to the
up in the tea room,
You want to rerun!
hard times, out the balloon,
Beauty like a butterfly, cocoon,
Urban love and central right by the lagoon.
Thats my grandfather, add a cream
the. harder.
Now you Shawty hold me than the dance partner,
Put a viper my pants,
So the honey hit the tune Ill let her dance on it!
a gypsy, hookers in
.everybody is fifties.
Nine ninety eighty two my shoot,
Reflect like high sun in the hot noon!

Get it?
I am not illiterate,
Not, not!
Not a little bit!
Straight up, I make the music for you!
Nothing, like an idiot!