Luyện nghe bài hát Fo 'eva Blunted

There's death in the air, my are bloodshot red.
I'm blunted so I don't care.
Word to my nappy black hair, the year of the leader,
A follower's a dummy, die alone with no fuckin' money;
All alone in his crib out the window, while the wind blow,
nintendo.
Jackin' off, shit 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 have grown like a fungus to make gs in the hundreds,
As the gets wicked, I kick it.
On the ave, my niggas, passin' c-notes,
Guzzlin' 40s wrapped in brown paper loadin' up mags, 5-0 patrols,
I'm still blunted, hunted, still don't know what the fuck he wanted.
Jumped out the blue-and-white with that bullshit stick in his tight,
I ain't in the tonight.
Forever stressin', a nigga want to pull his smith-n-wesson...
(redrum!) no question.
That shit be makin' your screws loose and an old shopping cart,
We ain't tin men, got heart!
Like my nigga and my nigga troy,
Strong, brothers with balls get 9-1-1 calls.
When shit hits the fan, I stand with my blunt and my glock in my hand,
What's the
We bum all snakes and devils no matter their color,
the next generation of rebels.
Hard-headed, undisciplined and ruthless, wind up toothless,
The wanted, blunted...

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

the flav, don't misbehave.
On my block, get shot when you see the infrared dot,
And hear the glock pop, you'll like rain in mad pain,
When a got nothin' to lose, a nigga goes insane.
Mad heads on the ave scramblin', gamblin',
As I see it, beats 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.
It's silly, here the sequel:
You can get drunk as a skunk, but illegal.
I'm forever blunted anyway, I don't a fuck what uncle sam say,
Okay, parlay.
Ease on down the project block and make noise,
up the neighborhood pumpin' beats, it's all good.
Spark a blizz-nut, on the project bench, here comes 5-0 again,
You know the wrench.
Fuckin' up a nigga's fun is illin',
Step the fuck off, foot, we chillin'.
You don't live anyway, take your ass back to scarsdale,
Before I hit you this garbage pail.
Mad stress...thank God for the buddha bless, now off my chest.
tomorrow, it'll happen again, I'll still be hunted, I'll still be wanted,
So I'm fo blunted...