Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my sucked
buck, maybe a gold chain
With that fucking flow that belittles men
tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, 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 like six furnaces it
It affixed learning them digits, and
"Dispelling myths, isn't he?"
One adolescent, six-nigga energy
And down fax like a rich nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo off
Hide your face, and throw your off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

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

a city that's recession-hit
With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake in
Desolate trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda stay pregnant
Breaking news: death's less important when the lose
lead in that baby food, heads try to make it through
Fish-netted for them eyes that she cater to
dirty as the fucking sky that you praying to
So I sit, eye in the pyramid
God it like it's truth serum in that beer and then
Disappear again, reappear
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 skinned knee cap on the
Salivary glands, lighter for the matchbox
Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you badder
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt off the grill and shit
Spitter of the Nick, nimble, rickrolling
niggas pick 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 don't with no cop
(Rolling with flow swamp)
Catch me stove top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With doors wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing,

with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain't about shit
Come around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled,
Bulletproof outfits, concealed
I'm ready to kill, so test it, all my is real
Selling thizz, couldn't him what the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave these to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting
Little boy me when it's time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas 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 walking Death Row
First is when the best go, hate is what the do
Voice inside my head told me, "Wet 'em if they you"
So it's Raging season
yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedless
Everybody hard until only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in they 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, police
'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the heat drawn
Strapped up long as the chief for police
Raised where the beasts are, of the Beach
A couple streets past Baby J, niggas spraying Ks
with the pork face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you niggas the sorbet, Coldchain

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