Luyện nghe bài hát Happy Little Trees

Now who you leave the scene
Messier than canvas's by Pollock
Throwing multicolored thoughts at a rapid
I make a you dissect it and make sense of it
Then get back to me at your convenience
my verbal sequence as I texturize these tracks
Seven layers to be exact the whack
With a brush stroke I mc paintily
Lyricists begin crumbling my scumbling technique
As I tweak your audio and visual keep my drips minimal messages
Cause me and rap go way we compliment
So together we enhance one that's common sense
intensity catches the eye your jaw drops
Be a critic not explicit with false props
I keep my deep my lights bright I'm very thorough
With my churascurro inspiration and a knife
Now watch me rock the spot like ? minus the
And make my face popular Andy did to Marilyn
Its kinda scary when real art left behind
While they take bullshit and start sellin it to blind
But I remain as long as ? continues spinnin hot shit
On his twelve-hundred color wheels of steel
Fuck mass appeal art is art the real can truly feel it
So open your eyes and
your ears with vision
Or do it you love it
Or for cash that's your
That's decision
That's your

Its like I'm torn two worlds
A and a microphone
A or a beat
CD or LP
Anything when my ink pen flows
And God only knows where its gonna me next
So I'm inclined to like paint rhymes and spit kaleidoscopes with one eye
And I suppose if you chose the path I chose
You know the cycle ass ho front
It inspiration and productivity then a sense of self worth and in steps depression
back and forth and forth and back
Should I paint a or record a track
A gift or a curse I don't I'm still undecided
But over the I've found clever ways to hide it
And that lack the passion I have may despise it
But my momma made me way I thank her everyday
So tell them to keep coloring outside the lines
Until they they limitations and they minds is free
Tell them teachers that you want money back this time
And Bob Ross for all the happy little trees
And tell my momma that her baby boy is doing just
hes running out of patience but his mind is free
And tell my pops that pay his money back sometime
And that his son is two steps away from where he to be