Luyện nghe bài hát Duck Season

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

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

Yo, my team be bellyaching hungry on the swarm again
Pirahna niggaz dick, yo Son, it's on again
up, he made a move, try to assist 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 jeans, the Timberlands in November
Shorty called me 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' Lake
My dolo rapper get you back
Represent the gentlemens who bent
Flash medallions Italians, la costra nostra

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

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

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

Fake one, I'm guaranteed to make you one
Please, y'all niggaz 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 with us, or put your down
Faggot, you fuck punk
We for cream nigga

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

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

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

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

head 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 your ice and curtains and
Come quietly, Wu-Tang Clan rules
Because of variety, so your high anxiety

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
Steve Rifkind must have sniffin'

To catch somethin' so dope, it left Lynch pussy drippin'
I fuck hundreds of bitches, and 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 whips and took trips
And my dick's been sucked by the lips

Fancy delicatessens, and the world's refreshment
But none of the above compare to the one-twenty
Or my queen and my seeds, in the that I rest 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
rhyme and reason, bite the bullet

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

it to him, room service, under pressure
And mad nervy, wavin' guns at the
Ticallion, we worried
them sick niggaz seven-thirty

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

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

Yo, my ice fly up on the keyboard son
Niggaz ran up on me law, what we do by the lords
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 stuck son, his nuts hungs
Switch, finger itch, at you like a bitch
Maybe y'all niggaz

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

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

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