Luyện nghe bài hát Desperado

(INTRO)
uh, chya, uh, uh
dedicated too, this too
it
(verse 1)
uh, i got a pocket of posies
some devil with a pitchfork keep like he know me
i'm psychopathic, low key, my dome piece
get no sleep, ill as fuck, the seem so weak
i stood an angel as he told me bout the glory
put me in a room of people, how the f-ck could i be
i get money, these lables tryna clone me
uh, my get heavy, hit the ground and crack the concrete.
so, i try to keep em' in my
sad to see when everything that you believe is dead
word to heavy d, and rest in to all that come and pass
is good sometimes, but it just doesn't last
a bunch of tracks, you see this mic is my punchin' bag
n' roll, drugs and cash, you softer than a bubble bath
sucka ass mothafucka, muthafucka's and
doper the shit that put chris tucker in dead presidents
desert rhymes, homie, beats, i'm on a camel
i'm way too hot to handle, life a beach, i brought my
haha, you want a war ? i got a lot of
you ain't a soldier cause you cammo
young rambo, hundred million fans
and i do it big, you a ipod
fire on wax, look like i rock
yeah you got a show, but you on my channel
that's hbo b!tch, you pay for that
hahaha, your free
i'm gunna f-ckin' you
um, imax'n shit
yeah, my d!ck
(Verse 2)
hey, ayo, i'm bout to gambilin' with ambien
i'm dutch smokin', a strike
but f-ck bowlin', i could tear a pin of
see, i'm american, apparently damagin'
to be in front of cameras in underwear with marilyn
monroe, at dumb hoes who want to much dough
and close to have you straight trippin' when you jump rope
don't rock the love boat, this business f-ckin' cut
and it's gunna is you just paint the wall with one coat
filled with blunt smoke, peep me through the fog
these rappers who be hatin' need to get a job
see, me i'm with my squad, money, livin' comfortable
i a couple hoes who model, but they ugly though
f-ck a toast, is f-ckin' broke, cut ya throat
judgin' me is nothin' dope, boy you under oath
god made the world, why did man make the
and if he created lennon, why'd he go and a hitler?
i could take a photo, but i'd rather a picture
of the one lawrence fishburne, shoot up all you hipsters
i'm from pittsburgh, that's and gold
if my skin filled up, i'mma tat my soul
runnin' out of paper, on my hand
hundred thousand writin' bout my jams
want a number one independent i'm your man
i'mma hit preme and leave you all where you stand