Luyện nghe bài hát Fo 'eva Blunted

There's in the air, my eyes are bloodshot red.
I'm blunted so I don't care.
to my nappy black hair, it's the year of the leader,
A a dummy, he'll die alone with no fuckin' money;
All alone in his crib lookin' out the window, while the blow,
nintendo.
Jackin' off, like that's not happenin',
Hands are clappin, are tappin', niggas is rappin'!
(who the fuck are you? ) yo, I'm the nine. forever blunted, hunted,
In my prime.
My skills have grown like a fungus to gs in the hundreds,
As the gets wicked, I kick it.
On the ave, with my niggas, c-notes,
Guzzlin' 40s wrapped in paper bags; loadin' up mags, 5-0 patrols,
I'm blunted, still hunted, still don't know what the fuck he wanted.
Jumped out the with that bullshit stick in his grip tight,
I ain't in the tonight.
stressin', make a nigga want to pull his smith-n-wesson...
(redrum!) no question.
That be makin' your screws loose and like an old shopping cart,
We tin men, niggas got heart!
Like my noble and my nigga troy,
Strong, brothers with balls get 9-1-1 calls.
When shit the fan, there I stand with my blunt and my glock in my hand,
the plan?
We bum rushin' all snakes and no matter their color,
We're the next of rebels.
Hard-headed, undisciplined and ruthless, wind up toothless,
The wanted, blunted...

[banging on door, phone
(damn, man, who the fuck was that, man? niggas is on the door, fuckin'
Game is on, fuckin' kid is cryin. I'm stressed, man, damn! I need a
Now!)

Check the flav, misbehave.
On my block, you'll get shot when you see the dot,
And the glock pop, you'll drop like rain in mad pain,
When a nigga got nothin' to lose, a goes insane.
Mad on the ave scramblin', some gamblin',
As I see it, shit panhandlin':
A quarter here, a quarter there, see I you that's why we murder,
Ya fight for your right or you're fucked like bertha.
silly, here comes the sequel:
You can get as a skunk, but weed's illegal.
I'm forever blunted anyway, I don't give a what uncle sam say,
Okay, parlay.
Ease on the project block and make some noise,
Wake up the pumpin' beats, it's all good.
Spark a blizz-nut, lamp on the bench, here comes 5-0 again,
You know the wrench.
Fuckin' up a fun is always illin',
Step the off, flat foot, we chillin'.
You don't here anyway, take your ass back to scarsdale,
I hit you with this garbage pail.
Mad stress...thank God for the bless, now it's off my chest.
Until tomorrow, it'll happen again, I'll still be hunted, still be wanted,
So I'm fo blunted...