Luyện nghe bài hát Duck Season

Scrape y'all
is my word, when you see us
When you see us flashing and
And and adding on

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

Yo, my team be bellyaching hungry niggaz on the again
Pirahna bite dick, yo Son, it's on again
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 proposal rips the
From California to courts, over God so, taste the soul food

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

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

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

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

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

Fake one, I'm to make 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 deal now, link up with us, or put your down
Faggot, you fuck punk
We battle for nigga

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

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

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

In your rap utilities, to fuck the abilities
Race like a sperm to the ovary
Microphone tone like a rotary phone
Ancient and poetry, old sloans

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

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

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

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

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

delicatessens, and the world's best refreshment
But none of the above compare to the lessons
Or my queen and my seeds, in the home that I in
Enter my zone get blown to 99

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

Niggaz is foul and it's duck
We at odds 'til we even
Bad asses, times, lower classes
Taste mine, straight shots in dirty

Bring it to him, room service, pressure
And mad nervy, wavin' at the clergy
Ticallion, we ain't
Keep sick niggaz seven-thirty

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

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

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

Reconstruction, the whole science on my, production
Y'all niggas guess who son, left his nuts hungs
Switch, finger itch, starin at you like a
Maybe niggaz snitched

Youse a loner, shell top while 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, thick ropes God, sliding through
Chill, y'all niggaz know what it is
James Bond Beamers behind me on Limon

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