Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my sucked
Quick buck, maybe a chain
With that fucking flow s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively tend to and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly with these niggas, nigga listen
The description fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget it
In turn, critics and interns admitting the shit spit
It just burn six furnaces writ it
It affixed learning them digits, and
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, he?"
One adolescent, fucking energy
And crawling down fax like a nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of cash
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, niggas done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, your ammo off
your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

'87 roof top,
Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud knocking teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck no cop
(Rolling with flow swamp)
Catch me stove top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With them wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause nothing, bitch

a city that's recession-hit
With stress niggas flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnant
Breaking death's less important when the Lakers lose
There's lead in that food, heads try to make it through
Fish-netted for them eyes that she cater to
Ride dirty as the sky that you praying to
So I sit, eye in the pyramid
God spit it like it's truth serum in beer and then
Disappear again, bearded
On top of a lear, steering it into the kids' ear
Provider of the music
For the rock user and the mascot, Earl
Rawer than the knee cap on the blacktop
Salivary glands, lighter for the matchbox
Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you than?
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the grill and
of the Little Nick, nimble, rickrolling
Bitch niggas litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

'87 roof top,
Whipping hoopties boost raw chronic
(Brutus in booth, double scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud knocking niggas loose)
Bruh, I fuck with no cop
(Rolling with flow swamp)
Catch me stove top
(Rapping to that rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With them doors open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing,

Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas about shit
around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, weapons
I'm ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is
Selling thizz, couldn't tell him what the is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave these to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, get it how they
Live and I for money, other words, I'm getting money
Little boy told me when time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, ain't prepared for heat
Tools hit like pool sticks, the way I cue
If was '88, I would have signed to Ruthless
Nine-four, would've had them down Death Row
First is the best go, hate is what the rest do
Voice inside my head me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So Raging Waters season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your seedless
Everybody hard it's only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it
But to his own, I ain't tripping long as I can reach the chrome
Heat your home like Southern California Gas, pass
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off with the heat drawn
Strapped up long as the for police armed
Raised where the beasts are, north of the
A streets past Baby J, bony niggas spraying Ks
Ruger with the pork face, for the court case
Here to save you niggas the sorbet, Coldchain

Like it's nothing, it's nothing, bitch