Luyện nghe bài hát Duck Season

Scrape motherfuckers
This is my word, you see us
When you see us and shining
And building and on

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

Yo, my team be bellyaching niggaz 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, flow on the track, the obstacle
Now my rips the global
California to courts, it's over God so, taste the soul food

Remember baggy jeans, the in November
Shorty called me in December
But guess what, my got messed up
Autograph up what, blessed enough to blow your rest up

We scrape that, Land O' that
My dolo rapper get you back
Represent the gentlemens who that
medallions like Italians, la costra nostra

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

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

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

one, I'm guaranteed to make you take one
Please, y'all niggaz gettin' low
But you come back though
Set up shop, and get the fat

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

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

It's Wu-Tang nigga, nuttin' changed nigga
Still shame on a nigga, who to run game
Your version of perversion, bitches on Persian rugs
Washin' like detergent, it's the surgeon

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

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

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

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

And them to defy me, diary, ya Irie?
I 18 points for my next 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 left Monica pussy drippin'
I hundreds of bitches, and split millions of dollars
And built thousands of scholars
My saga from the hill to the harbor

kid brown in Nicaragua
Gave birth to MC's, and bank robbers
We drove expensive 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 and my seeds, in the home that I rest in
my zone get blown to 99 sections

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

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

Bring it to him, room service, under
And mad nervy, wavin' at the clergy
Ticallion, we worried
Keep them sick seven-thirty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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