Luyện nghe bài hát Coins

yea i'm amplified, hey hermaphrodites,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you fuckin are the reason rap is partly deceased,
with a beat in its muthafuckin heart cuz its weak,
you retarded teens with your marketing schemes,
so that you have hearts 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 aint claimin i was raised up in the hood,
i live in forests eatin squirrels takin in the woods,

but if you wanna come and battle me, kill you wack mcs,
even when my brain lags and freezes off to grams of weed,
past saturn's rings, eye balls japanese,
glassed nd pink, bars still clean like lysol, you see?

ima be the platinum rappin king,
and still keep it real, 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 dire shrill drill,

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

cuz i go hard, like a dude off,
plus i go far, an astronaut blastin off,
all you other fuckers over hyped like macintosh,
i'll serve you 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 killed this instrumental,
but nobodys seeing how i got big potential,
so i'm pissed enough to a pencil, swing and stab it in ya temple,

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