Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron put my fist up after I get my dick sucked
buck, maybe a gold chain
With that flow that s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly with these niggas, nigga listen
The description fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget it
In turn, these critics and admitting the shit spit
It just burn six furnaces writ it
It affixed them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling myths, isn't he?"
One adolescent, fucking energy
And crawling down fax like a nigga centipede
Crack and slap a hand out of cash account
Stamp and shouting, thrashing, these niggas let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', like snap, crackle, poppin' your off
Hide face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

'87 top, Bronson
Whipping hoopties tryna boost raw
(Brutus in that booth, double scoop, hock 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 clothing
With them doors open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

a city that's recession-hit
With stress niggas could metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda just stay
Breaking news: death's important when the Lakers lose
There's in that 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 it's 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 rock user and the mascot, Earl
Rawer than the skinned knee cap on the
glands, lighter fluid for the matchbox
Striking, wait, wait, who the you badder than?
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt pollo off the grill and
Spitter of the Little Nick, nimble,
niggas pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

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

Quit with all that talk, bruh, we know you niggas ain't about shit
Come around, we gun 'em down, piled, Auschwitz
Bulletproof outfits, concealed
I'm ready to kill, so test it, all my weapons is
Selling thizz, tell him what the recipe is
Got 'em that they never gave these weapons to kids, cheers
Send up spines of fat bitches after
Shows out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting
Little boy told me when it's time to ride, send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for
Tools hit like 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, 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 only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in songs be trapping hard 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
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the heat
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 with the face, Jewish for the court case
Here to save you from the sorbet, Coldchain

Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing,