Luyện nghe bài hát Duck Season

Scrape y'all
This is my word, you see us
you see us flashing and shining
And building and on

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

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

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

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

We scrape that, O' Lake that
My dolo get you sent back
Represent the gentlemens who bent
Flash like Italians, la costra nostra

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

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

Half of y'all built your vine from my stress tree
Faggots, homos, yo, my flavor liver than a
Stay militant kid, twist ya like
You fucking idiot, 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 back
Set up shop, and get the fat

Tired of y'all, inspired by y'all
So what the deal now, link up us, or put your shield down
Faggot, you fuck around
We battle for nigga

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

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

propels from Bobby Steele's 12 gauge
Front page, "Daily Chronicle"
"Hell up in Gotham, take heed and yo' seeds"
You fall like leaves, you lack tranquility

In rap utilities, to fuck with the abilities
Race like a sperm cell to the
Microphone post tone a rotary phone
poems and poetry, old sloans

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

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

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

To catch somethin' so dope, it left Monica Lynch pussy
I fuck hundreds of bitches, and split millions of
And built with thousands of
My life saga from the to the harbor

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

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

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

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

Bring it to him, room service, pressure
And mad nervy, guns at the clergy
Ticallion, we worried
Keep them sick niggaz

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

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

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

Reconstruction, that's the whole on my, production
Y'all guess who stuck son, left his nuts hungs
Switch, finger itch, starin at you a bitch
Maybe niggaz snitched

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

We in the mushrooms, chased the high neck in the
Baggy jeans, ropes God, sliding through customs
Chill, niggaz know what time it is
James Bond Beamers me on Bacardi Limon

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