Luyện nghe bài hát I Am Not a Human Being

I am not a being, pussy 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 replay 'em
I'm givin' them the blues, Bobby "Blue"
we stand and fall on y'all
Ballin' my bloods, call it b-ball

These days ain't shit, Young is
I got Mars Bars, Three
Come through coupe color as veneers
And you know I'm ridin' with the toast,

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

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

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

I am not basic, I am not a being

Uh, star, baby
Now to my suite and get lockjaw, baby
Rich nigga lookin' at the cops all
It's that mob shit nigga, Scorsese

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

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

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

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

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 thank God I am not basic

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

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

star beeotch, check out how we rock
And if this ain't hip hop, it be me hop
I'm higher a tree top, she lick 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 on et cetera, three dots
Still get a stomach ache time I see cops
You better run motherfucker we not

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

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, I am not a being