Luyện nghe bài hát Dead President Heads

Uh
We in here counting dead heads
Up in the years, it's been up in the mills of dead heads and counting
They put pictures of dead heads on green, long papers
Then went and put dead heads on mountains
How we ain't gon' it?
You know

I went from women asking "what's the scent of your fragrance?" to of attention
To in Vegas, then all the way to Japan racking up yen
Now I'm all the way
And I'm acting like Dennis in Vegas, stacking up
I'm a young black boy, armed,
To those who want to and try harm or change him
While living in anguish, while I'm living in real nigga harmony
around me blend together like falsettos, tenors, and bass
All intelligence is on God
All memories formed in from the 70s
And all to all dinners and plates
And all hail to the cartels, and we out on a
And you know how we know that we are and you
y'all are looking at our sales
I'm a motherfucking army
I'm [?] than all, I put the our in our sales
Uh, I'm the one they can't
time I come through straight, their wave minimize
Why? It's probably 'cause I gun through faith, gave
Niggas get quick these days
Street this, best this, that, we ain't seen that
All we see around clique is squad cars
need to be crown vicked these days
Stop it, you couldn't fit in my old socks
Let alone my
I'm not a street nigga, I'm a chip off the old block
I ain't with an entourage since '07
Niggas dissed Marshall after they copy his whole
Like we won't an actual firing squad to their studio
That Basquiat their whole session
A lot of niggas dope, but concern me though
I got that Pac, Big L, Pun eternity
I got that blowing that weed, taking that last in
And in the infirmary glow
hit your broad in the gall bladder with this ball dagger
Have her hollering "not the knife" she having an orgasm
And all of her is haul-assing down the thighs
God dropped me off in the drop with the crossroads crossed toes and dotted eyes
I'm not alive, I wasn't born, I got a
Uh, get popcorn, idolize 'cause I've arrived
This is Cam throwing bullets with the band shooting
is beat submission from Bas Rutten
This the [?] of [?]
Nigga, pay your dues, past due here
This cash rules, you're at the wrong paper, this bad news
Relax junior, you still think you're in high
But you're not, but you will be at your last new year
Ha, boo-ya, over Baghdad
Compliments 7 Mile, Fenkell Ave, Cash and Poo Bear
With the residents just go blasting through
I ain't stressing 'bout none of you poindexter
I ain't tongue wrestling with no unless it's Ashanti
this, God, Gandhi, Kevlon labcoat
Mixed together leather bathrobes like Plies and Fonzi
Cool science, I'm lions and giants
You there, Ryan's
No one can you crying where I'm at, the highest tier
One track could tear your whole act up like the Flatbush Zombies
Whipping the Mac truck with Travis Scott, hitting Macbook
I'm not a pioneer, I'm the last of a dying
Living in forever, ever, ever, ever, ever in
And ever since that put me on MediaTakeOut
I ain't fucked a bitch since
I got sophisticated bitches coming to my place asking "is it to sit?"
I said, "only if you have to a shit"
Country chick named Delores, I let her sit on this dick
Rappers blew up and get to out designers
I like to my notebook, it got me out of the binders
Blacks never had each other's
saying "All Lives Matter"? Okay, now we're actually spineless
I'm into nowadays, she say she bad
I'll probably brainwash her like Hollywood to Stacey
A lot of guys out slanging for a belt buckle Pootie Tang
Wada-Tah!
5'9" the illest MC of all time right now and all the
Kneel in front of me like feel sobriety, young'n, or fall in line
Uh, now, I'm piranha dipping in waters of Flint with the Slaughters and Em
Come on in, dummy, the water's
Sniff around, I smell just money, I ain't hard to find
I'm doing big
This asked me do I got at least 50 shades
the other day
I said, "come here, let me game
I got more than 50 shades and grey is the colorway"
I my momma a pic of myself in a big frame
And a that said "bitch, I'm Rick James" for Mother's Day
Uh, I thank the Lord and pray for more
I just lifted the skirt of the
I don't really how you're dressing
Nigga, I'm just out here to take your
Make the winner on the track
Let nature it's course
I'm a product of the old Death Row
I ain't a fan of his, he might want to be standin'
I with the cannon not the cameras
I ain't Shannon Briggs, but go champ
slow dance
Kill you with the first and you seven more, necromance
Best flow versus yo petrol
You
This that new Bent, blue Aston
This who dat against who askin ?
'99 the Outsidaz told me I last
I'm too
But here I am, two boys two girls two in
And over there on pills and heroin
Forks in they careers so that's embarrassin'
If I could get you clean through my charities
I might just let you through me vicariously
But then again, I might not cuz I don't sparingly
I'm torn get along, fight, and why can't we
Fuck the approach
If I have to show up, I'm your throat
Your are too O.G. Maco to box with O.G. Wacko the G.O.A.T
I'm not a factor, I'm the whole
to subtract for a fraction of folks
Your favorite a diva
I put around the heads of non-believers like drawings of Ceasar
Wake me when the sleepers are ignoring me, bruh
I'll be flying with a tank of gas
On
If you from the block, y'all sons
Watch y'all daughters, cuz I saw
Slaughter much as as I saw hot sauce and hot dog water
I came a way from wishin' under the stars
But I ain't come all of this way just to say come this far
Coppin' with black cards
There's no limit when it to this art
No need for twitter
I dodged
I'm the non-equivocal black and at
Listenin' to a Timbaland in a villa in Calabasas
I'm same little Cringer and Battle Cat kid
Addict pen and pad scenematics spazzin'
Fuckin' wit' a bitch about as bad as my habits
I got askin' can I have it
All the valuables I in this world, I had to take it
Had to open King Tut's up in my imagination
Had to separate fear from respect then
Get rid of your
Time to doubts and
Think about it, there's two sculptors Gutzon and Lincoln
Who dead president heads
Who got paid dead heads by the president
To a mountain
Contemprary art
We keep the shit rockin' like the of Art Basel
Stompin' through this hip-hop shit like our step show
We
We should have bar for these bars
We the
We shoot bar missles with these bars
the odds, look at the car see the rides
Don't be surprised, realize
We ain't for president
So, we worth shit
Unless we