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, flashed in front your like it's your last chapter,

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

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

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

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

kinda dope if i hold a microphone and be a rapper,
give the type of shows where hos just like to blow my after,
but cuz i strive for those unlikely 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 sprinters haulin ass to finish quickest on the track,
i'm sittin on the top and rippin with a flawless craft,
not for but to win the witnesses' applaudin claps,

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

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

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

but i worked for this, a lot of trouble it took,
my bars were written in a colorin book,
and i aint 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, kill you wack mcs,
even my brain lags and freezes off to many grams of weed,
high saturn's rings, eye balls japanese,
glassed nd pink, bars still clean like lysol, you see?

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

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

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

cuz i'm sick as fuck, im on a different 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 grab a pencil, and stab it in ya temple,

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