Luyện nghe bài hát I Am Not a Human Being

I am not a human being, for lunch
Pop all the and spit in the punch, yeah
in the blunts
I ride through your block, see a in the trunk

I don't know why they keep playin', they better 'em
I'm givin' them the blues, Bobby "Blue"
Together we stand and on y'all
Ballin' with my bloods, call it

These days shit, Young Money is
I got Bars, Three Musketeers
Come coupe same color as veneers
And you know I'm with the toast, cheers

Yeah, now I'm back on my
And a bunch a squares like a motherfuckin' grid
Shit, with me and get hit
I finger fuck the Nina, make the bitch kids

Just do it my nigga, I did
a motherfucker deeper than me, bitch dead
Ya dig, here is big biz
And I scream fuck it, it is

I am the rhymin'
I got a cup of ya time, I waste it
I got my on the line, I'm not racin'
I God that I am not basic

I am not basic, I am not a human

Uh, star, baby
Now to my suite and get lockjaw, baby
Rich nigga at the cops all crazy
that mob shit nigga, Martin Scorsese

Heater range 'cause people are strange
But I bet that AK .47 keep you
You see Weezy nor Wayne, I'm in the far lane
I'm runnin' shit, hundred yard gain

Uh, swag on
I'm killin' 'em, see the flag from the enemy
you in yo' head and leave your dash full of memories
Father, me for my brash delivery

I try you, I wouldn't lie, dude
I must be sticky 'cause them bitches got they eyes
Young Money, baby, we the like fly food
Y'all can't see us, like the bride

I stand like a motherfuckin' 9'2"
I scream you and whoever designed you
And if you think you hot, obviously you were lied to
And we die, we multiply and then we come divide you

I am the rhymin'
I got a cup of ya time, I won't it
I got my on the line, I'm not racin'
I thank God that I am not

I am not basic, I am not
I thank God that I am not basic, I am not a being

Reportin' from world
Magazine of bullets, you can be my cover girl
got the weed, rollin' thicker than a southern girl
Strong arm rap like a did a hundred curls

star beeotch, check out how we rock
And if ain't hip hop, it must be me hop
I'm higher than a tree top, she my lollipop
I still get my from your girlfriend's sweet shop

Spittin' that rock, I'm smooth, not Pete Rock
And my, and my money on et cetera, dots
Still get a stomach ache time I see cops
You better run motherfucker we not

You better run 'til your feet
You ain't even on a alphabet in my tea pot
than a ski shop, holdin' on to the top
And if I let go I still won't G-rock

I am the rhymin'
I got a cup of ya time, I won't it
I got my on the line, I'm not racin'
I thank God I am not basic

I am not, I am not a being