Luyện nghe bài hát Knowledge God - Raekwon

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

Fake niggas throw in they drinks
Club we snatch linx politic, Africans and chinks
While World of Sport snort coke by the seconds
Niggas projects filled with injectin'
Morphine, the God more CREAM, and upstate
Reek, almost got hit with fourteen
Chill Pah, the be a Star when you come home
Light bones and let you rock my 3G
So, see cousin, yo I was workin', I'm jerkin
And uptown these niggas actin like hurtin'
twenty-four a brick
Colombians be on some bullshit, why Poppy got hit
Stay tuned, word up, I to see you in June
By the way, I seen bitch, she was up in this cat's room
Skeyed up, the fuck up, to top it off
Look beat up, with two fiends huggin' your seed up
I took care of that, though, but worry bout it
I got your back

Yo why's my niggas always yellin' broke shit
Let's get money Son, now you want to smoke
Chill God, yo the Son don't Allah
What's today's mathematic Son? God

Fly like cashmere, last year, my team caught bodies in
Hit a store owner Mike Lavonia
Italiano, slanted-eyed bangin' fat Milano
coke right out the bottle
Sometime, a nigga brought nines to with minds
Crazy peace, buying keys in
Was a rich nigga, picture the nigga dope figures
Condo with his chick, rockin' the vigor
Mafia flicks, tyin up was his main hobby
Teachin his seed, karate
drinks in clubs, hairy chest with many minks
Night time with spics
live, he claimed he couldn't die, top rank
Took sixteen shots in his fist to
And his pet piranha, he named him
Smokin' ganja, callin' his paisandra
Claimin New York was ancient
the sky stayed the color of grey, like her-on
I can't front though, truck of indo
to blow slow, his ass is out now, tally-hoe

Yo why's my niggas always yellin' broke shit
Let's get money Son, now you want to shit
Chill God, yo the Son chill Allah
What's today's mathematic Son? God

Yo why's my niggas always yellin' that broke
get money Son, now you want to smoke shit
Chill God, yo the Son chill Allah
today's mathematic Son? Knowledge God