Luyện nghe bài hát Lyrical Murderers

This is the life, we
I with the leanin' and rockin'
That ain't seen as a option

You're without focus
Woo, Beach
(Lay seats back)
New
(Turn your up)

We we, we lyrical
(Detroit)
Welcome to the
(What you 'bout?)
Where we bring them llamas out, bloaw

We, we, we lyrical
Man, we own these streets and the freaks love us
We ain't 'bout you fuckers
(Slaughterhouse)

Lyrical murderer, Rakim
I'm a shootin' my way into your lame top 10
Pistol at your head if I next to Eminem
Then I bust in your face like I'm Lil' Kim

Niggards, better to the lyrical Lord
That I fall off like the umbilical cord before I fill up the
is how a killer record
With the double edged syllable sword, I'm iller than all

Dineri, see I'm a literary
Bury niggaz words, a cemetery linguist
Most rappers are comedy
They like they sodomy hole, they full of shit

Now you could walk through the shadow of death next to that street
Where the verbal cocaine and 80's meet
Where them is backwards
I'm ridin' with my daughter in the with the A.K. in the baby seat

We them copycat killers, venom
Commit them lyrical murders and then we 'em
Lyrics be quality, bitches be givin' me brain
My dick be deep in they like psychology

Independently pennin' the best words that were ever
The mixture of and Everclear
You can't hide, we
Now, picture a grizzly standin' to a teddy bear

We we, we lyrical
to the Slaughterhouse
(What you 'bout?)
Where we bring verbal llamas out, bloaw

We, we, we lyrical
Man, we own streets and the freaks they love us
We worried 'bout you fuckers
(Slaughterhouse)

Yeah, hello hip-hop, I am
You Yeah, and I'm aware
A beast so at your wake I'll cry tears
And that's no to the pioneers
If we ain't who you to hear
Somethin' wrong with your eyes and ears

I in this game screamin' Jers'
Ain't an MC in our lane to try and
Try and run with our
But I'm cool with bein' Levert seein' my son on stage

Gun gon' blaze, act up in this
And I'm a be Nate Robinson and up the point
run's over, run with us or get run over
I'm here to save this shit and I soldiers

is lyrical murder
Me and every track a physical merger
I stab it in the chest I'm a bit of a curver
So it bleeds to death, like the middle of a unfinished

Or I wrap my hand around his throat
'Cause he think his is slick or his little snare is dope
Shoot the bass in the face but I carry a rope
To hang the piano keys they hittin' every note

I'm what no able to withstand
If you suffer from writer's block and your label got big
Listen to fam, slide a little dough out that budget
And the instrumental hitman

We we, we murderers
to the Slaughterhouse
(What you 'bout?)
Where we bring them llamas out, bloaw

We, we, we murderers
Man, we own these streets and the freaks love us
We ain't 'bout you fuckers
(Slaughterhouse)