Luyện nghe bài hát Gossip

I hate gossip and I walk around lookin' for it, you know?
But yesterday it seemed to wander on till it found me
You know like, found me, then why don't you try provin' it
How? You know how to prove it?
Well, what would you do is
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,

Stop, on a nigga that is a weak emotion, the lady of a nigga
And you can get tipped ya waitin' on a nigga
Put a bag and an apron on the nigga

I my all behind the mic
But you never see, if you sit behind the light
You don't have to me to win the title fight
But I'm wear that championship belt so tight

And if I'm wrong, there is no
And if I'm wrong, is no white
I'm tryna to be
But you bitches in my hair to fuckin' pull lice

And my flow is rare, these other rappers
These other rappers bark, some of 'em bite
But I'm much more bright, I give the game
So you dim the light you just might, might wanna

Think it
(Think it over)
Ooh, think it
(Think it baby, baby)

Get 'em
Stop, criticizin'
You realize what I am and start epitomizin'
Legitimate, I got the heart of the biggest
I'm confident fuck 'em all pull out my dick and ride it

My flow sick, so sick, it's like my is dyin'
It rains a lot in my city, because my city's
Because my dyin' still I emerge from all of that
I am a livin' pion-eer, Zion

God, not them
Steer my Robin Coupe the streets of the boot and soowoop
And, then I leave blood in a boot, I a blood bath
there's a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at?

I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe, no bug that
I'm twisted like the strings on a
Now at New at

I feel your pop stole me like a bus
So in possession, ah ah, I must ask

Hey, haven't I good to you?
(Think it over)
Tell me, haven't I sweet to you?

my name through the mud
I come out clean cast stones
I even blink
A gun is not a math
I won't even

leave you dead like the mink under my sink
Don't believe in me, believe me
I've graduated from
And made it to

My flow is like
it and eat it
But I'm need g's
If I'm the zeedy

You want beef?
I want a and uh, we be
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica we be
Hard body nigga, just takin' it
All my paper, 'bout my paper like Eazy

Why do rappers? Why do
Lie to fans, lie to rappers, lot of
Lie like actin', cut the mothafuckin'
Cut the check nigga fuck props
And it out to Mr.Hip Hop

I'm not dead I'm