Luyện nghe bài hát Mrsesame Seed - Violent J And Abk

(intro)
"naw man not this fuk ass."
"dont let him it up."
"no man we tight you go ahead and smoke all to yourself dawg"
(verse)
he comes in his ice cream truck once again,
sellin bags of when its gunna end?
little ass kids that dont know any better,
smoking bags of mud dust and it shredder.
you could eat ur weed pop it in like popcorn,
its alll seeds and its god damn wrong.
i chace like u when u show me the bag,
for to insult me smarts with this fucking shwag.
i crumble and get so high i cant see,
down and then i got your ass standing before me,
with a bag of floor like "tryin to smoke one up".
mr. sesame fucking ass shut up u need punch,
for every headache hit that i took fuck off my before i rock ur block.
and send u back to ur connect ur eyes swollen money gone but ur weed aint stolin.
"keep shit"
(chorus)
mr. sesame seed theres wrong wich yo bag,
its more seed its weed,
more stems and out to had.
a man me somthing what the fuck is wrong wich u?
"fuck is wrong you?"
bitch ass motherfucker the fuck is wronge wich you?
"fuck is wich you?"
(verse)
seed no bun for a bag,
instead of weed you call it little pebbles and crack.
what? you got a bag of jawbreakers mixed dirt.
why is it that time i smoke my nose bleed and head hurt?
i aint buying ur no more i swear,
need the icky green with the bright white glare.
"keep steppen".
sell here.
dont need blunts poppin burning facial hair,
i would rather quit smoking then buy ur drama nightmares in my sleep about the man monster.
me down serving me up.
seed weasle goes pop when the lit up.
when now ur same old thing,
pillow all bloody with my head on sting.
im aggravated but can i do?
man wanna be whats wrong wich you?
(chours)

(verse)
i seen the artificial dope man selling of trick,
it was just crumb without the next up bullshit.
i pulled the car over and i his ass down,
for even to sell it even at a hundred a pound.
we rid the earth its wrong it exests.
eather way we always end up his shit.
all u rideing fockers all u gots is seeds.
and ur shit look like a bag of rice crispies.
my weed man gets the shit and poured it his suit.
and these rainforest on spinning 24's,
and u around the neighborhood on a unicycle,
sellin that rong to who dont know right, though.
so get bitched slaped off it and up them green bags,
im eatin at ur weed sack bitch u that,
im that ass for them headache bags,
its cause u people dont even smoke like shagg.
"thats the im sayin man. yall motherfuckers sell some drankey ass shit man. yall sell stems and steeds and shit. if im gunna smoke im gunna smoke some premium"
(chours)
(verse)
i dont no sesame seed.
i dont need no and hay.
u gunna sell that shit that weeds more like a give away.
raffel it off to little kids for school lunch change.
walking through the neighbor hood joints of bird seed grain.
voice all raspy cloths stink.
smelling like a bond fire u think.
and got the to ask where ive been.
far the away from u and ur bag of peanut friends.
no feelings but your shit sucks.
after breaking an ounce i only got 3 blunts.
so fuck u man stop sellin.
im not a snitch but im in the mood for tellin.
(chours)