Luyện nghe bài hát Laying Blame

Verse One -
I gave birth to half styles, you should pay me rhyme support,
Like Jean suing Michael Jackson for child support,
is thought, what is it? Lethal, Damn you'll get hurt,
Cos I XL the tag on my shirt,
I'll have these easing back, rhyme with a swagger,
your girl aphrodisiacs and hide your viagra,
If pain was diabetes, rhyme be my insulin,
I'm taking out the insolent in an when
They bring the rhyme; I'll if you wanna tussle,
A single line can turn that fatty matter muscle,
You stagnate, while my rhymes like rumours,
Your living that god has a sense of humour,
I'm made from the cream that came from the crop,
I'll move the to Mohammed scream my name from the top,
And what I got, boy, so give me headroom,
These clubs are full of toys than spoilt kids bedrooms,
When I'm on stage I lose my breath,
Cos I got so much heart that no room in my chest,
Left for lungs, yes the yet
To come, my rhymes a hand around your neck,
Constricting your breathing snakebites and beestings,
I'm all up in these arseholes like G-Strings,
I searched the for opposition but I fear the
Only competition I was in a mirror.

Verse Two -
Pressure steps to the batters plate you salivate, known to captivate,
I have to break new barriers when a chaste nun masturbates,
If one more critic asks me I do, I'll slap them mate,
And tell them I'm a rapper as I her up in gaffer tape,
make me wanna flip,
MCs only dream they got a grip, and up with their hand on their dick,
Honest, if ride the nuts I tell the get off me,
Cos I'm unstable a cradle bridge, so don't cross me,
I'm highly explosive; you're a child playing matches,
I rappers you give hairline fractures,
actors keep it real? You're really wak it's fact,
You spit one-liners while I spit the chapters,
Perhaps it's to retire the mic,
Like the Bulls should have done son, cos no-one to be like,
anymore, cos nowadays you're taken on a fantasy tour,
Of coke, and gold when they're actually poor,
flawed, yet entertaining,
I guess it how far willing to go to satisfy a craving,
Make them swallow their like epileptics,
Then respect it, I come clean as if my lube was antiseptic,
So blow me, you still rhyme fresh,
I'm on a level of divineness, so call me your highness,
There's only three things that are in life,
Death, taxes and Hilltop working the mic.