Luyện nghe bài hát Fo 'eva Blunted

There's death in the air, my are bloodshot red.
I'm forever blunted so I care.
Word to my nappy hair, it's the year of the leader,
A follower's a dummy, he'll die alone with no money;
All alone in his crib lookin' out the window, while the blow,
nintendo.
Jackin' off, like that's not happenin',
Hands are clappin, toes are tappin', 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 tongue wicked, I kick it.
On the ave, with my niggas, c-notes,
Guzzlin' 40s wrapped in brown paper bags; up mags, 5-0 patrols,
I'm still blunted, still hunted, still don't know the fuck he wanted.
Jumped out the blue-and-white 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 shit be makin' your screws loose and like an old cart,
We ain't tin men, got heart!
Like my noble and my nigga troy,
Strong, real brothers with balls get calls.
When shit the fan, there I stand with my blunt and my glock in my hand,
What's the
We bum rushin' all snakes and devils no matter color,
We're the generation of rebels.
Hard-headed, undisciplined and ruthless, you'll up toothless,
The wanted, blunted...

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

Check the flav, misbehave.
On my block, get shot when you see the infrared dot,
And hear the glock pop, you'll drop rain in mad pain,
a nigga got nothin' to lose, a nigga goes insane.
Mad heads on the ave scramblin', gamblin',
As I see it, shit beats
A quarter here, a there, see I told you that's why we murder,
Ya either fight for your right or you're like bertha.
It's silly, here comes the
You can get as a skunk, but weed's illegal.
I'm forever blunted anyway, I don't give a fuck what sam say,
Okay, parlay.
Ease on down the project block and make noise,
Wake up the pumpin' beats, it's all good.
Spark a blizz-nut, lamp on the project bench, here 5-0 again,
You know the wrench.
Fuckin' up a nigga's fun is illin',
the fuck off, flat foot, we chillin'.
You don't live here anyway, take 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 be hunted, I'll still be wanted,
So I'm fo blunted...