Luyện nghe bài hát Miss America

This is a public service
to you by the good people over at Dreamville Records
"And so my Americans
Ask not what country can do for you
Ask you can do for your country"

me

Load the clip in the chopper, flip the script and get
All my niggas is mobsters, all my is doctors
Cole World, this just the tip of the
So talk and taste the tip of the Mossberg
Don't nigga, they just words
my words tend to sound like Proverbs
Niggas don't see the 'til we dead in the hearse
Granny cause she always givin' bread to the Church
Now pastor Mason Betha in a
And little niggas desert eagles like they Rambo
Bumpin' my shit, always wondered why they fuck my shit
I hope it's 'bout the knowledge, not who's suckin' my dick
But oh well, I'm gon' sell I had no bail
For my chain and my I should've won Nobel
Ill, boy you cold nigga, yeah I know
Only young nigga do it than the old niggas

chances, slow dance with the devil bitch
Overcomin' the circumstances we hella
you all in my business, this what I tell a bitch
If you ain't fuckin' me, don't with me, this life on the edge
Green splurged all on embellishments
My paid, don't need to cop my fellas shit
Scoopin' hoes in the party, some Cinderella
Smash for the of it, livin' life on the edge

Miss America, thoughts
Miss America, petty
Miss America, thoughts
Just to pay any and every cost
Heavy as I sit in this Range countin' thousands out
Am I about dollars or about
Am I about knowledge or about
or big chains, they don't feel my pain

Blood on my sneakers, no for the grievers
He played the corner like Revis he should've had defense
That's how I'm feelin', blood spillin' I love
Niggas'll swear that they it, this is as as it gets
Rap game changed, is embarrassing shit
Bunch of bitches posin' on some old America shit
I was a wilder nigga on my therapist shit
Moving as shit
In a city where niggas really don't care who hit
Who the was I?
Just a young little nigga tryin' to see the other
Of the tracks, where them scarecrows at
No brains on a but they'll air your back
Fuck the man, Uncle Sam I won't sell your
I fight your wars, I won't wear your hat
I'mma pass your classes, learn your craft
I'mma fuck your daughters, I'mma your flag

Took chances, slow dance with the devil
Overcomin' the circumstances we rich
Since you all in my business, this what I a bitch
If you ain't fuckin' me, don't fuck with me, life on the edge
Green dollars all on embellishments
My fellowship paid, need to cop my fellas shit
Scoopin' hoes in the party, some Cinderella
Smash for the hell of it, livin' on the edge

Miss America, petty
America, petty thoughts
Miss America, thoughts
Just to floss pay any and every
Heavy heart as I sit in Range countin' thousands out
Am I dollars or about change?
Am I about knowledge or about
or big chains, they don't feel my pain

They don't feel my
They'll never feel my
And they'll never play shit on the radio