Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a chain
With that flow that s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively tend to and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, nigga
The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, forget it
In turn, these critics and interns admitting the spit
It just burn six furnaces writ it
It learning them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, he?"
One adolescent, fucking energy
And crawling fax like a rich nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of 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 flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

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

From a city that's
With stress niggas could metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and just stay pregnant
Breaking news: death's less important the Lakers lose
There's lead in that baby food, try to make it through
Fish-netted legs for them eyes that she to
Ride as the fucking sky that you praying to
So here I sit, eye in the
God spit it like it's serum in that beer and then
Disappear again, bearded
On top of a lear, steering it the kids' ear again
Provider of the music
For the crack user and the mascot, Earl
Rawer than the knee cap on the blacktop
glands, lighter fluid for the matchbox
Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you than?
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt off the grill and shit
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 niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't with no cop
(Rolling that flow swamp)
me over stove top
(Rapping to that rock)
(Passionless in old clothing
With them doors open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, it's nothing, bitch

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

Like nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch