Luyện nghe bài hát Coins

yea i'm amplified, hey hermaphrodites,

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

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

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

"sorry man", didn't mean it, yo this kids a genius,
spit the that make you turn ya head, like a bitches cleavage,
since i was just swimmin shot out of a jizzin penis,
i had divine traits, like a twin of jesus,

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

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

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

so be quiet and listen while the of rhyme 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 pair of chromosomes,

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

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

but i hard for this, a lot of trouble 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 squirrels 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,
nd pink, bars still clean like lysol, can't you see?

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

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

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

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

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