Luyện nghe bài hát Coins

yea i'm amplified, hey hermaphrodites,

pass the mic, all you fuckin packin wack 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 your eyes like it's your last chapter,

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

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

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

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

kinda dope if i could hold a and be a rapper,
the type of shows where hos just like to blow my penis after,
but cuz i for those 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 sittin on the top and rippin a flawless craft,
not for dollars but to win the witnesses' claps,

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

like them butt fucking young money butt buddies,
when i come by, they 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 fuckin faggots are the rap is partly deceased,
a faltering 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 for this, a lot of trouble it took,
my first were written in a colorin book,
and i aint claimin i was fuckin up in the hood,
i live in forests eatin takin dumps in the woods,

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

ima be the platinum status king,
and still it real, with out changing just to match the scene,
and a couple stacks 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 that they have a single cell brain,
wack mcs rankin in the back, a tail gate,
but when i spit, i can feel the wrath and heat of raised,

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

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

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