Luyện nghe bài hát Coins

yea i'm amplified, hey hermaphrodites,

the mic, all you fuckin swag packin wack rappers,
leave you plastic faggots wrapped with gauze, swag backwards,
half as nice, as the 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 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,

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

"sorry man", didn't mean it, yo this kids a genius,
spit the schemes 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 inner demon, 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 dope if i could 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 goals and dreams to grab,
you my mind i slow like i've been diagnosed cerebral cancer?

"what the fuck?" ima give it all i got raps,
like olympic sprinters 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,
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 pair of chromosomes,

kinda like them butt fucking money butt buddies,
i come 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 faggots are the reason rap is partly 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 were written in a colorin book,
and i claimin i was fuckin raised up in the hood,
i live in forests squirrels takin dumps in the woods,

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

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

but most rappers weak as mang,
so i suspect that they have a single 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, like an blastin off,
all you other mother 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 just 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,

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