Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise I'll put my fist up after I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a gold
With that flow that s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with these niggas, listen
The description fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget it
In turn, these and interns admitting the shit spit
It just burn six furnaces writ it
It affixed learning 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 out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, poppin' your off
Hide your face, and throw your off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

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

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

'87 top, Bronson
hoopties tryna boost raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock up)
(Sub rocking, thud knocking teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't with no cop
(Rolling that flow swamp)
me over stove top
(Rapping to that rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With them doors 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
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, tell him what the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave these weapons to kids,
Send chills up spines of fat after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm money
Little boy told me when time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for
Tools hit like 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 go, hate is what the rest do
Voice inside my head told me, "Wet 'em if test you"
So it's Raging season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your seedless
Everybody until 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 Southern California Gas, police pass
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the heat
Strapped up as the chief for police armed
Raised where the 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