Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my dick
buck, maybe a gold chain
With that fucking flow that belittles men
They tend to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, fucking with these niggas, nigga listen
The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, then it
In turn, these critics and interns the shit spit
It just burn like six furnaces it
It affixed learning digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, he?"
One adolescent, fucking six-nigga
And crawling down fax like a rich nigga
Crack ceramic and slap a out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, niggas done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo off
Hide your face, and your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

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

From a that's recession-hit
With stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake in
Desolate trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most Hyde, and Brenda just stay pregnant
Breaking news: death's less when the Lakers lose
There's in that baby food, heads try to make it through
Fish-netted legs for them eyes that she to
dirty as the fucking sky that you praying to
So I sit, eye in the pyramid
God spit it like it's truth serum in that 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 skinned cap on the blacktop
Salivary glands, fluid for the matchbox
Striking, wait, wait, who the fuck you than?
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the grill and
Spitter of the Nick, nimble, rickrolling
Bitch niggas litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

'87 top, Bronson
Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw
(Brutus in booth, double scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, knocking niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't with no cop
(Rolling with 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

Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we know you niggas about shit
Come around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled,
Bulletproof outfits, concealed
I'm ready to kill, so it, all my weapons is real
Selling thizz, tell him what the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave these to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat bitches
Shows out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting
boy told me when it's time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for heat
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 what the do
Voice inside my head me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So Raging Waters season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma
Everybody hard it's only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in they 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, pass
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off with the heat drawn
up long as the chief for police armed
Raised where the beasts are, north of the
A couple streets Baby J, bony 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