Luyện nghe bài hát Duck Season

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

Y'all niggaz just it, hear me
Only ones that who we got 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
What up, he a move, try to assist it
Listen kid yo, you was born to be a but I'm a bishop

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

Remember baggy jeans, the Timberlands in
Shorty me Santa in December
But guess what, my got messed up
Autograph pressed up what, blessed enough to blow rest up

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

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

Add on, the sloan
Check it now, you get the dick award
It's like jail, and it's the 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 a dobo
Stay militant kid, twist ya like
You fucking idiot, playing with my but you be fearin' it

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

kid brown in Nicaragua
Gave to MC's, thieves and bank robbers
We drove expensive whips and took trips
And my dick's sucked 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 that I rest in
Enter my zone get blown to 99

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

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

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

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

'Nuff said, dick in your like 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 we do by the lords
That's right, exile the fake, hit niggaz like weight
Feed 'em food, let the evaporate

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

Youse a loner, Adidas top while I
Sip a Corona, read the Robb Report, bone her
Buy you jewels, here's some 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 me on Bacardi Limon

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