Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up after I get my dick
Quick buck, a gold chain
With that fucking that s-s-so belittles men
tentatively tend to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with niggas, nigga 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 like six writ it
It learning them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling myths, isn't he?"
One adolescent, six-nigga energy
And crawling down fax like a rich nigga
ceramic and slap a hand out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, your ammo off
Hide face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

'87 top, Bronson
Whipping hoopties boost raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I fuck with no cop
(Rolling with that swamp)
Catch me stove 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

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

'87 roof top,
Whipping hoopties tryna raw chronic
(Brutus in that booth, scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck no cop
(Rolling with flow swamp)
Catch me stove top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With doors wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause nothing, bitch

Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we you niggas ain't about shit
around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, weapons
I'm ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is
thizz, couldn't tell him what the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they never gave weapons to kids, cheers
chills up spines of fat bitches after
Shows throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm money
Little boy told me it's time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, ain't prepared for heat
hit like pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If this was '88, I have signed to Ruthless
Nine-four, would've had them down Death Row
First is the best go, hate is what the rest do
Voice inside my head me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So it's Raging season
yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave your momma seedless
Everybody hard until it's only God seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping hard as Jeezy, I 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
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the drawn
up long as the chief for police armed
Raised where the beasts are, north of the
A couple streets past J, bony niggas spraying Ks
Ruger with the face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you niggas the sorbet, Coldchain

Like it's nothing, cause nothing, bitch