Luyện nghe bài hát Gossip

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

Stop, hatin' on a nigga that is a weak emotion, the of a nigga
And you can get like ya waitin' on a nigga
Put a body bag and an on the nigga

I give my all the mic
But you could see, if you sit behind the light
You don't have to pick me to win the title
But I'm gone wear that championship belt so

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

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

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

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

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

Fear God, not
my Robin Coupe through the streets of the boot and soowoop
And, I leave blood in a boot, I leave a blood bath
Sorry there's a tub in the boot, now where the at?

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

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

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

Drag my name the mud
I come out clean away stones
I even blink
A gun is not a problem
I even think

Just you dead like the mink under my sink
Don't believe in me, believe me
I've graduated hungry
And it to greedy

My flow is like
it and eat it
But I'm gone g's
If I'm bakin' the

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

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

I'm not dead I'm