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 that all to dawg"
(verse)
Here he comes in his ice cream truck again,
sellin bags of bullshit when its gunna
haven little ass kids that know any better,
smoking bags of mud dust and it shredder.
you could eat ur weed just pop it in popcorn,
because its alll seeds and its god wrong.
i chace like u when u show me the bag,
for tryin to me smarts with this fucking shwag.
i smoke crumble and get so high i see,
come down and then i got ass standing before me,
with a bag of barn floor "tryin to smoke one up".
mr. sesame fucking ass shut up u need punch,
for headache hit that i took fuck off my jock before i rock ur block.
and send u to ur connect with 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 and sticks out to had.
a man tell me somthing what the is wrong wich u?
"fuck is wich you?"
bitch ass motherfucker what the fuck is wronge wich
"fuck is wich you?"
(verse)
sesame no bun for a bag,
instead of weed you should it little pebbles and crack.
what? you got a bag of jawbreakers with dirt.
why is it that every time i my nose bleed and head hurt?
i aint buying ur no more i swear,
the stickey icky green with the bright white glare.
"keep steppen".
cant here.
dont need your poppin burning facial hair,
i would rather quit smoking buy ur drama nightmares in my sleep about the seed man monster.
chaceing me down me up.
seed goes pop when the pipes lit up.
when now ur same old thing,
pillow case all bloody my head on sting.
im aggravated but can i do?
weed man wanna be wrong wich you?
(chours)

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