Luyện nghe bài hát Lupe Back

[Lupe - Verse 1]
Yield, to the forces of
I you the torches of our shit
Reinforced with hardness of
with the harshness and overall sharpness
Now how far do the get?
My nigga, from the stars to the
From the to the bomb
It's a whole lot of and a whole lot of armlift
My arms long, but I'm
A strong arm, I can lift up all
You gon' have to build a bigger for us
To keep wolves out of Old MacDonald barn, bitch
Yeah, Team
We're armed, put my arms on a lear
I put my hands in the air
Watch the throne as I in the chair
Throw my in the crowd, hope it lands on the heir
The niggas like to pass interfere
Spend a lot of lint jams in the year
That act the man up in here
That don't count when your only fan is a mirror
subliminal to any nigga that he feel he is too
But you don't a chance, playa
I am there, Chi-Town, fan of the
where they dance in the square
Yeah, Yankees too, but only Granderson there
And now khaki pants on La Brea
We all friends, why your man lookin'
Turning whiter than hair
Came out the garage like he saw a in there, huh

2]
Oh shit alert, clothes
Callin bitches, Louboutin and Gucci shows
Well, I guess there my Louis shows
More o shit, if your role model's a movie
And if you live your life like it's a
Talkin' to us like we mics, a of you ain't do befo'
Electric for a urinal
keep a toaster in my jacuzzi, yo
Shock-a-zulu, call me II
Oh shit, man these labels prostitute you
Strap them to sushi bars, and em lots of fugu
a bad piece
You can that 360 between your asscheeks
Artists let's and unionize like the athletes
Radio is our craft weak
to repeat the same dumb shit that work
Only as hot as your beat
And rappers, they relating to last piece
never leave they desk if you don't got no B.D.S
Sacrifice your publishin', they said you need a hook
And they ain't gon' pay you, said that you received a
And what's stupid real, is producers feel
Twenty placements or you stuck in that producer
And R&B chicks so get it the
All they money goes to and stylists
Gotta keep up with image
Label lose they if they ever see a blemish
ProActiv impeals, and trainers
Managers suggest you fuck a to be famous, huh
But it's all
when Cobain blew out his brains, did he blame it?
And if snakes in the industry helped him aim it
Started up records before the bullet left the chamber
I evil, everyday I'm livin'
Rest in to men, women and the children
And fingers to the Pilgrims that killed 'em
of the People, happy Thanksgiving