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 fucking that s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively tend to turn and go I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, listen
The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, then it
In turn, these critics and admitting the shit spit
It just burn six furnaces writ it
It learning them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling myths, isn't he?"
One adolescent, fucking energy
And crawling down fax like a rich nigga
Crack ceramic and a hand out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these niggas 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 hoopties boost raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud knocking teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck no cop
(Rolling that flow swamp)
Catch me over top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old clothing
With doors wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

From a that's recession-hit
With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake in
Desolate testaments trying to stay
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda stay pregnant
Breaking news: death's less when the Lakers lose
There's lead in that baby food, heads try to it through
legs for them eyes that she cater to
Ride dirty as the fucking sky that you to
So I sit, eye in the pyramid
God spit it it's truth serum in that beer and then
again, reappear bearded
On top of a lear, steering it into the kids' ear
of the backdrop music
For the crack rock and the mascot, Earl
Rawer the skinned knee cap on the blacktop
Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the
Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you than?
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the and shit
of the Little Nick, nimble, rickrolling
Bitch niggas litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

'87 top, Bronson
Whipping hoopties tryna raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock up)
(Sub rocking, knocking niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck no cop
(Rolling with flow swamp)
Catch me over top
(Rapping to that rock)
(Passionless in old clothing
With them wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain't shit
around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, concealed
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 weapons to kids,
Send chills up of fat bitches after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, get it how they
and I live for money, other words, I'm getting money
Little boy told me when it's time to ride, send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't for heat
hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If was '88, I would have signed to Ruthless
Nine-four, would've had them walking down Row
is when the best go, hate is what the rest do
Voice my head told me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So it's Waters season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave momma seedless
Everybody hard until only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be 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 like Southern California Gas, police pass
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off with the heat drawn
Strapped up long as the for police armed
Raised the beasts are, north of the Beach
A streets past Baby J, bony niggas spraying Ks
Ruger with the pork face, Jewish for the case
Here to you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain

Like it's nothing, cause nothing, bitch