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 and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, listen
The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, forget it
In turn, these and interns admitting the shit spit
It burn like six furnaces writ it
It affixed learning them digits, and
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, 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 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 roof top,
Whipping tryna boost raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't with no cop
(Rolling that flow swamp)
Catch me over top
(Rapping to that rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With doors wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

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

'87 roof top,
Whipping tryna 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 with that swamp)
Catch me over top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
them doors wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
it's 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, bodies piled,
outfits, weapons concealed
I'm ready to kill, so it, all my weapons is real
Selling thizz, couldn't tell him what the is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave weapons to kids, cheers
Send chills up of fat bitches after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how
Live and I live for money, words, I'm getting money
Little boy told me when it's time to ride, they'll send 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 down Death Row
First is when the best go, hate is the rest do
inside my head told me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So Raging Waters season
That big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedless
Everybody hard it's only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping as Jeezy, I don't believe it
But to each his own, I ain't tripping long as I can the chrome
Heat your home like California Gas, police pass
'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the heat drawn
Strapped up as the chief for police armed
where the beasts are, north of the Beach
A streets past Baby J, bony niggas spraying Ks
Ruger the pork face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you niggas from the sorbet,

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