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 in the chopper, flip the script and get Oscars
All my niggas is mobsters, all my bitches is
Cole World, this the tip of the iceberg
So shit and taste the tip of the Mossberg
Don't trip nigga, they just
Though my words tend to sound Proverbs
Niggas don't see the preachers 'til we dead in the
Granny broke cause she always givin' bread to the
Now Mason Betha in a Lambo
And little niggas holdin' desert like they Rambo
Bumpin' my shit, always wondered why fuck with my shit
I hope it's 'bout the knowledge, not about who's 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, I know nigga
young nigga do it better than the old niggas

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

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

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

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

Miss America, petty
America, petty thoughts
Miss America, thoughts
Just to floss pay any and cost
heart as I sit in this Range countin' thousands out
Am I about dollars or about
Am I about knowledge or brains?
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