Luyện nghe bài hát Duck Season

Scrape motherfuckers
is my word, when you see us
When you see us flashing and
And and adding on

Y'all niggaz just it, hear me
Only ones that who we got for
Is them that we say peace to
Hear me, pay attention, put shoes on

Yo, my team be bellyaching hungry niggaz on the swarm
Pirahna niggaz bite dick, yo Son, it's on
What up, he made a move, try to it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be a pawn but I'm a

Back to the novel, you Son, it's
How you figure God, what, on the track, flip the obstacle
Now my rips the global
From to courts, it's over God so, taste the soul food

Remember baggy jeans, the in November
Shorty called me Santa in
But guess what, my Wally's got up
Autograph pressed up what, blessed enough to blow rest up

We scrape that, Land O' Lake
My dolo rapper get you sent
the gentlemens who bent that
Flash medallions like Italians, la nostra

We movin' through your like we supposed ta, flexin'
Lex and Diamonds the settlement
So keep the the gun Boo
Like bad ass bitch in Dead Presidents

Add on, the billboard
Check it now, you get the dick award
It's like jail, and it's the sixth
Test me, floating in the S.E., now see

Half of y'all niggaz built your vine from my tree
Faggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than a
Stay militant kid, twist ya bolo
You idiot, playing with my Clan but you be fearin' it

Fake one, I'm guaranteed to you take one
Please, y'all money's gettin' low
But could you come though
Set up shop, and get the fat

of y'all, mostly inspired by y'all
So what the now, link up with us, or put your shield down
Faggot, you fuck punk
We for cream nigga

You want a crab? Nah let his hand swing
I ought to punch a in his palm with these pointy ass rings
No said, knew your chump ass was dead
When I saw the four four off your shiny forehead

It's Wu-Tang nigga, ain't nuttin' nigga
Still shame on a nigga, who to run game
Your version of perversion, fuckin' bitches on rugs
niggaz like detergent, it's the surgeon

Slugs propels from Steele's 12 gauge
page, "Daily Chronicle" reads
"Hell up in Gotham, take and protect yo' seeds"
You like autumn leaves, you lack tranquility

In your rap utilities, to fuck with the
Race a sperm cell to the ovary
Microphone post tone like a rotary
Ancient poems and poetry, old

Explosive head bullets, black
Timberland footed ninjas, who full metal clips
And how to put it in you
Surrender goods and your merchandise

For no price, I'm certainly a heist
For your ice and curtains and
Come quietly, Clan rules society
Because of variety, so maintain your anxiety

And lead to defy me, diary, ya Irie?
I need 18 points for my joint, this high annointed king
To a deal, I be the one to appoint
Steve Rifkind must have sniffin'

To catch somethin' so dope, it left Monica Lynch drippin'
I fuck hundreds of bitches, and millions of dollars
And built thousands of scholars
My life saga from the hill to the

kid brown in Nicaragua
Gave birth to MC's, thieves and robbers
We drove expensive whips and took worldwide
And my dick's been sucked by the lips

Fancy delicatessens, and the world's refreshment
But none of the compare to the one-twenty lessons
Or my and my seeds, in the home that I rest in
Enter my get blown to 99 sections

This rhyme has no limitations, this time there's no
minds at the door, you want it niggaz it's yours
The flavors raw, what the fuck you think I'm for
It's and reason, bite the bullet

Niggaz is and it's duck season
We at odds 'til we even
Bad asses, high times, lower
mine, straight shots in dirty glasses

Bring it to him, service, under pressure
And mad nervy, wavin' guns at the
Ticallion, we ain't
Keep them sick seven-thirty

this, watch the birdy
These is Ol' and Dirty
With sharp pins be stabbing you
Pins and needles, and pins

'Nuff said, dick in your mouth Tempest Bled'
As I race track thoroughbreds, duckin' the feds

Yo, my ice look fly up on the son
Niggaz ran up on me law, praising what we do by the
That's right, the fake, hit them niggaz like weight
Feed 'em food, let the evaporate

Reconstruction, that's the whole science on my,
Y'all niggas guess who son, left his nuts hungs
Switch, itch, starin at you like a bitch
y'all niggaz snitched

Youse a loner, Adidas shell top I
Sip a Corona, read the Report, then bone her
Buy you some jewels, here's some
Not neccessarily mean to be boo, check out the analoo

We in the mushrooms, the high neck in the custom
Baggy jeans, thick ropes God, sliding customs
Chill, y'all know what time it is
James Beamers behind me on Bacardi Limon

Check out the pitch like Ryan, he caught a slug for lyin'
Yeah, you was lyin', the cash, cryin'
Militia, in position, Casa Blanca Cuban Link Christian
Lex back whistlin', fake fucks