Luyện nghe bài hát Coins

yea i'm amplified, hey hermaphrodites,

pass the mic, all you fuckin swag wack rappers,
leave you plastic faggots wrapped with gauze, that's backwards,
as nice, as the antichrist in afterlife,
i'll have your life, flashed in front your eyes like your last chapter,

half cracker, ya back in time, to the black and white,
rides then laugh at ya, just cuz ima mad bastard,
rap master, fuckin wanna beef? and talk with me,
i'll you out, like the whole row of kanye's bottom teeth,

i'll leave you screamin "stop it please", but i fuckin finished yet,
i'll kick ya head, till you all higher form of intellect,
never lost a fight, yo i mr miyagi's ass,
but then he got pissed, and me out of his karate class,

"sorry man", mean it, yo this fuckin kids a genius,
the schemes that make you turn ya head, like a bitches cleavage,
since i was swimmin semen shot out of a jizzin penis,
i already had divine traits, like a of jesus,

mixed with an inner demon, cold bitter freezin,
shivering like the fuckin winter season see,
cuz i believe in me achievin, big, is what i condone,
the future of your life's unknown, and in my mind i know it'd be,

dope if i could hold a microphone and be a rapper,
give the type of shows where hos just like to my penis after,
but cuz i strive for those unlikely goals and to grab,
you think my mind i slow like been diagnosed cerebral cancer?

"what the fuck?" ima it all i got with raps,
like olympic sprinters haulin ass to finish on the track,
until i'm sittin on the top and rippin a flawless craft,
not for dollars but to win the applaudin claps,

so be quiet and listen while the messiah of and rhythm,
the mic on fire by spittin a lightning strike within it,
and if you think im you prolly got a broken dome,
or maybe your retarded with an extra of chromosomes,

kinda like them butt fucking young butt buddies,
when i by, they just run from me, cuz they aint,
hard as can be, shit they far my league,
they hardly mcs, the 3's bars are just weak,

you fuckin faggots are the reason rap is deceased,
with a beat in its muthafuckin heart cuz its weak,
you targeting retarded teens your marketing schemes,
so that you have they decieved to buy your garbage released,

but i worked hard for this, a lot of it took,
my first bars written in a colorin book,
and i claimin i was fuckin raised up in the hood,
i live in forests eatin takin dumps in the woods,

but if you wanna come and battle me, i'll you wack mcs,
even when my brain lags and freezes off to grams of weed,
high past rings, eye balls japanese,
glassed nd pink, bars still clean like lysol, can't you

ima be the status rappin king,
and keep it real, with out changing just to match the scene,
and make a stacks of gs, cuz im real,
and you can't deny skill that grabs you damn attention like a shrill fire drill,

but most rappers weak as mang,
so i suspect that have a single cell brain,
wack mcs rankin in the back, like a gate,
but when i spit, i can feel the and heat of hell raised,

cuz i go hard, a dude jackin off,
plus i go far, an astronaut blastin off,
all you other mother fuckers over hyped macintosh,
serve you like some nutter butters or just like some apple sauce,

cuz i'm sick as fuck, yeah im on a level,
while you spit your simple stuff, i just killed instrumental,
but nobodys how i got this big potential,
so i'm enough to grab a pencil, swing and stab it in ya temple,

pissed enough to make the fuckin weapon so step away,
you crave pain, cuz my tempers raised but anyways,
i'm just being me, like they recomended aye,
back when i was a little kid sittin in second grade.