Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my up after I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, maybe a chain
With that fucking flow that s-s-so men
They tend to turn and go when I am finished
Stone cold, hardly fucking with niggas, nigga listen
The doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, then forget it
In turn, these critics and interns admitting the shit
It just burn like six writ it
It affixed them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, he?"
One adolescent, fucking energy
And down 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', snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo off
your face, and throw your flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

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

From a city recession-hit
stress niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
Desolate trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda stay pregnant
Breaking death's less important when the Lakers lose
There's in that baby food, heads try to make it through
legs for them eyes that she cater to
Ride dirty as the fucking sky that you to
So here I sit, eye in the
God spit it like it's truth serum in that and then
Disappear again, 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 the skinned knee cap on the blacktop
Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the
Striking, wait, wait, who the you badder than?
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, plus I shit

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

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 it, all my weapons is real
Selling thizz, tell him what the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they gave these weapons to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat bitches
throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I live for money, other words, I'm getting
Little boy told me it's time to ride, they'll send them for me
Ain't nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for
Tools hit pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If this was '88, I have signed to Ruthless
Nine-four, would've had them walking Death Row
First is when the best go, hate is the rest do
Voice my head told me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So Raging Waters season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, your momma seedless
Everybody hard until only God they seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be trapping as Jeezy, I don't believe it
But to his own, I ain't tripping long as I can reach the chrome
your home like Southern California Gas, police pass
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm with the drawn
Strapped up long as the chief for police
Raised the beasts are, north of the Beach
A couple streets past Baby J, niggas spraying Ks
Ruger the pork face, Jewish for the court case
Here to you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain

it's nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch