Luyện nghe bài hát Don't Front

Used to get, bent, now I represent to the
is full of insolent bullets
I'm a Doberman Pinscher, Pitbull and a Rott'
Mixed with a toxic, the plot to thicken
I begin to spitting like vintage Pac,
sinister, ever since the the Doc replenished me
The day he gave me that shot when I was just 'bout to
So to not see him with me would be a shocking
And I'm the definition of what a chin is
'Cause no matter how times you sock me in it
And knock me to the canvas, the boxing critics
that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll always have a Rocky finish
Eat me brocoli, spinach, cocky?
But I hope I offended you when I ya how dope I am at this
And put emphasis on the "dope," so names come up
In that conversation of who's the dopest, better mine in it
And mind me, while I remind you of the flow
You won't anywhere, where it fires and I unload my pen explodes
'Til there's no rhymes in it, in no time
Let insults fly even sixty seconds that go by, so you I meant it
In I was so shy, timid
Two pairs of jeans I'd alternate, bummy clothes, I
Begging my mom for K-Mart MacGregors they were new
St. Vincent de Paul, those Pony's used, and no size fitted
But kissed old days, adios, I did it
They I was a gimmick, now I'm the one that those guys mimic
Now you fuckers don't wanna go no argument
'Cause you know I'll win it, name a flow that's more authentic, and don't

front, you know I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
front, you know I got you open, kid
Don't front, you know I got you open,
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
front, you know I got you open, kid
Yo why you frontin', you I got you open, kid

in piece to Big Proof, you was a beast, you lyrically mirrored me
Molded my off of you, your spirit's flowing through me
I you, Doody, without you I feel so incomplete
I'm no king, no need for rose petals to be thrown at my
I'm a thorn in your side, get thrown a throne
Better watch the fucking tone that you speak, like I'm in the zone
I'm in a whole different on my mothafuckin' own, it's just me
No can compete, and I've never been known to retreat
From beef, beep-beep, follow or wallow in defeat
I'm still hungry as fuck, but can't say bon appetit
I don't know what to eat, fucking microphone or the beat
Bitch, nobody's mind like mine
It's nose to the grindstone time, homes, mind's blown
'Cause I rhyme like I'm still to get signed, up in the Ebony Showcase
Denaun screaming "Who the fuck passed you the mic?"
Never asked you like my from the get
I'd rather ask you to wipe my ass,
You had you a nice run, now take a
I ever meet my match, I'mma strike bitch first
'Cause on the mic I gotta represent the rappers
The real rappers get mothafuckin' skills cracking
Word to Buckshot and Dru-Ha, why the not?
You don't like it? a cock! Almost forgot
Before I with the Doc, I almost signed with Duck Down
'Cause Rawkus make no offers, so mothafuck Loud
They me around so what's up now?
Wow, how much of an would I sound like
Rubbing it and holding some grudge now, but don't

Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, word
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
front, you know I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Yo why you frontin', you I got you open, kid

Late at night, used to a buzz, couldn't write
Now I write the type of shit to you wipe
But wear diapers you might leave a streak
I'm on a streak windshield couldn't wipe
It's hard to decipher what cypher I might jump tonight
'Cause I'm hyper or something, needing or something is lighting
This under me, it's breathing new life, it's like I already died once
I some people only live twice, and it's funny
My days of being broke was so long ago, I lost my of money
But you won't get a fucking nickle from me
Oh shit, I'm on one knee
I'm having a stroke of genius, Elizabeth I'm to you, honey
From boy to man, it's still make a whore like a thyroid gland
I'm in category, man, don't put me up with them pop stars
I never needed a pat on the to get at a boy, band
No offense? Yes offense, precedents has been set that'll get met
Middle finger against Moby's nose
Shouts to Obie, the closed on my show
(But forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't make it)
You take it, oh
Got a whole generation of rappers coming up are nutty with the flow
But convince me you've
An MC since me who's good with the fucking mincing of words
Without mincing that'll make you feel like I'm pinching a nerve
Whose mentally disturbed, you as well stick a knife in me and turn
It'll be like my skin being Indian
Hah, bitch there one, when will you learn?
Never been served if memory
I'd battle that 'til my own recollection remembers these

You I got you open kid, stop fronting
You I got you open, Word Life