Luyện nghe bài hát Dinner Bells And Straight Jackets

(Verse 1)
This mic me like a C4 hostage
Yelling out hip hop needs more pits
I my mind there's no reward on it
highway, detoured conscience
I get depressed and hit the blower on switch
and blow trees for all my good deeds gone which
it hard for me to lean toward modest
or keep form when the sky seems godless
I live by my words, my lifes on the
Hunger pangs, my fruit is ripe on the vine
I'm not hyped on my mind, my ego hides
The fear of never getting is rightfully mine
stormy night I put my kite in the sky
Hoping will fly, it might be my pride
But weather death or strikes me its fine
As I'm not f**king 45 killing time
See I don't mask my pain I dress it up like my
And give it platforms to showboat and hit the
spark, before they mix and matchbox
and viola I've made a fire out of thoughts

Nobody me which way is right
So I smile while I titty f**k bitch name life