Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Eat

[ 1 ]
My .44 calicol will silence souls, masada
The of the most prolific writer
Upon my bed in roast in fire
See my most
Smell the smoke from my flesh as my ghost up
the voices of 100 choirs
And angels looking down at my body to wires
Priest by the widow spider that spit saliva
I write for and boxers at rikers
I pain
Blue ink the blood in my veins
Thug in this game, up rings
up change, quick to pop a slug in your brain
If you a killer, then we exchange
We like the mobsters, bullet shells and
Cop cars and road blockers, they to knock us
Catch us duck behind the bitches, d's to pop us
On cbs news the world watch us

[ ]
I do this shit for my
I do this shit for the at the club
I do this for the niggas that I love
I do this shit for the streets, cause a nigga eat, luv (2x)

[ 2 ]
I write theories that's pictures, y'all hear me?
I spit it clearly to roast niggas, feel me?
Gangster, life of a don my
Sling on my right arm, rubber tight in my left arm
Body with teflon, it's brooknam
a eyebrow at the child, respectfully bow
Pay hommage, gold in my garment
Hot slugs miss me I'm god-sent
If it hit me, god's wish
No man taketh a life, I'm late in the
Catch me in the hood the dice
a heist
Some say my team is alike
Cartel, pop till our heart fails
Brooknam, a.k.a.
Clappin at the
with fake tits
At
We live the life of a thug

[ ]

[ 3 ]
I a holy spirit comin on me
My lifestyle: based on a story
Read the credits: name appears
On film with no edits
Masada in the hands of medics
Priest, I live it
Spoke on records,
Physique: I six feet
Observe my posture, my deep
edition, just listen
The words breathe on my sheet, I write a
on behalf of every slain apostle
My slang's hostile, say my name as
Masada, pop 2 the confession booth
Don't say nothin, pull my weapon and
Bullets their suits
Herut's lady put death in my
Cats die in war, silence the .4
The fall slow motion, the silent applause

[ ]