Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my up after I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a chain
that fucking flow that 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, these critics and interns admitting the spit
It just burn like six furnaces 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, these niggas done let the out
Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, poppin' ammo off
Hide your face, and throw your 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 niggas loose)
Bruh, I don't with no cop
(Rolling that flow swamp)
Catch me over top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old clothing
With them doors open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause nothing, bitch

From a city recession-hit
stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate testaments trying to Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and just stay pregnant
Breaking news: less important when the Lakers lose
lead in that baby food, heads try to make it through
Fish-netted legs for them eyes she cater to
Ride dirty as the sky that you praying to
So here I sit, eye in the
God spit it like it's serum in that beer and then
again, reappear bearded
On top of a lear, steering it the kids' ear again
Provider of the music
For the rock user and the mascot, Earl
Rawer the skinned 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 off the grill and shit
Spitter of the Nick, nimble, rickrolling
Bitch niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage

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

Quit with all tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain't about shit
Come around, we gun 'em down, piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, concealed
I'm ready to kill, so it, all my weapons is real
Selling thizz, couldn't tell him what the is
Got 'em that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheers
Send chills up of fat bitches after
Shows out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I live for money, words, I'm getting money
Little boy told me when it's to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for
hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If this was '88, I would have to Ruthless
Nine-four, would've had them down Death Row
First is when the best go, hate is the rest do
Voice inside my head told me, "Wet 'em if they you"
So it's Raging Waters
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, your momma seedless
Everybody hard until only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it
But to each his own, I ain't tripping 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
where the beasts are, north 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 from the sorbet, Coldchain

Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing,