Luyện nghe bài hát Hood Pope

Let me sing my song, if you feel this shit, mothafucka sing
It's the Pope, chain hang low, red rubies and the gold
Young Trap Lord, feel pain, I be down for my people
Drinking Jesus juice, jeans low, red rubies and the gold

1]
And we sick, we hurting
Pull a chrome when they murk them
Then murk off in
All a nigga be lurking
Big money we earning
A of hooligans need churching
I'm the Hood Pope, my children
And I'll be their Donny
Gold when I'm smirking
of little kids running 'round need nuturing
Lord know I ain't really perfect
All of these clowns run this circus
please what is my purpose
Besides fucking Persians
Popping these bottles and popping models
tell me where is the Sherman
And I'm my weed, put me in my zone
Demons chasing me, cause they my dome
And I carry the heat, and I sleep with the
Cause I'm in some beef, and they my dome

God say "Son, you don't go down"
Now you praying in that trap when you that gun sound

2]
And I told you, told you time
That ain't you find your friends
You talking about you riding them
And with them, those ain't your friends
You dying, lying on cement, be crying "Don't take him!"
Gotta be trying, but he said "I he won't, ever again"
God, he was a little child, he was a kid for a while
He found the streets and then it got wild, God, I promise, never
God, he is my only child, don't wake him so he smiles
But all she hear is lonely sounds, now he won't talk again