Luyện nghe bài hát Last Call

[Intro: MC]

1: Classick MC (Future Freshman)]
Sun rises through an open champagne
Filled too the brim, that ass drop
G in the game, spend the cash spot, ask not
Doing what niggas cant, ask God, as for
All these here, gonna make a year
slow and turning wheels, sipping lean and burning bills
This goes out to Vernon Hills, 59th and Fields
Chi-town niggas, still steel
What up Dilla, way too ill, Illinois be bumping
Pissed these niggas off smiles
Looking like they Childs, serving on the interstate
Shit look like we pounds, bet you looking nervous now
Future Freshman, future sound, heavy heads, future

2: Visual]
This is what we say
is not a game, joe
is why we lay low

Listen, Im so vicious, these cold
Will have you so frigid no business
You kill spirit and you got no digits
Cause you roll with lame bitches that gifted
I lifted, I move and I aim different
I hate critics, they aint lived it, I vivid
I image, this aint scripted, I stay in it
These fakes winded, with no passion
These cromagnons will backwards
I keep it moving till my collapses
You cant catch me, Im a bullet from gun, Im flying fast
Stand here, look around, Im dying last
I just laugh when I hear their ass
My whole circle, 360 with the
This is my story my soul to my head
Here Im you these lessons, hope you follow that

[Verse 3: Hadee]
that, follow that
Follow that, that

Nobody said it would be but I take it easy
Im thinking like Im Stevie as I wonder about the music in my
Let it play, every day with the trail I
But never this thing like in dreams
at them tears in the delicate scenes
Lost souls with irrelevant means never did leave
The you might have only see on television
I tell our vision better scenes from where they living
But Im still backseat, car of bitches, they got liquor and theyre sisters
hard to read like pyramids with hieroglyphics
No consequences, what we willing
riding raw, dont have a difference, its all good till the wings flipping
Halos, no cant go, a praying soul, no bank
But what the fuck was we for?