Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Eat

[ 1 ]
My .44 calicol silence y'all souls, masada
The ghost of the most writer
my death bed in roast in fire
See my desires
Smell the smoke from my flesh as my ghost up
Hear the voices of 100
And angels looking at my body attached to wires
Priest kissed by the widow spider spit saliva
I write for lifers and boxers at
I pain
Blue ink replaced the blood in my
Thug in this game, flooded up
Cluttered up change, to pop a slug in your brain
If you a killer, then we exchange
We like the mobsters, shells and choppers
Cop and road blockers, they tryin to knock us
us duck behind the bitches, d's tryin to pop us
On cbs news the world watch us

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

[ 2 ]
I write that's motion pictures, y'all hear me?
I spit it clearly to y'all niggas, feel me?
Gangster, life of a don my
on my right arm, rubber grip tight in my left arm
Body suited with teflon, brooknam
a eyebrow at the child, respectfully bow
Pay hommage, studs in my garment
Hot slugs me cause I'm god-sent
If it hit me, god's wish
No man a life, I'm late in the night
Catch me in the shakin the dice
a heist
Some say my team is satan's
Cartel, pop shells till our fails
Brooknam, a.k.a.
Clappin at the
Bitches with fake
At
We the life of a true thug

[ ]

[ 3 ]
I a holy spirit comin on me
My lifestyle: based on a true
Read the name appears alphabetic
On clear with no edits
Masada in the hands of medics
Priest, I live it
on records, majestic
Physique: I six feet
my posture, my click's deep
Director's edition, listen
The words on my sheet, I write a novel
Speak on behalf of slain apostle
My hostile, say my name as gospel
Masada, pop 2 through the confession
Don't say nothin, pull my weapon and
Bullets wettin suits
Herut's lady put death in my
Cats die violent in war, the .4
The fall slow motion, seen the applause

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