Luyện nghe bài hát Mrsesame Seed - Violent J And Abk

(intro)
"naw man not mother 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 once again,
sellin of bullshit when its gunna end?
haven little ass kids dont know any better,
smoking bags of mud and calling it shredder.
you could eat ur just pop it in like popcorn,
because its seeds and its god damn wrong.
i chace fags like u u show me the bag,
for tryin to insult me with this fucking shwag.
i smoke and get so high i cant see,
come down and then i got your ass before me,
with a bag of barn like "tryin to smoke one up".
mr. fucking seed 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. seed theres somthing wrong wich yo bag,
its more than its weed,
more and sticks out to had.
a man tell me somthing what the fuck is wich u?
"fuck is wrong you?"
ass motherfucker what the fuck is wronge wich you?
"fuck is wich you?"
(verse)
seed no bun for a bag,
instead of weed you should it little pebbles and crack.
what? you got a bag of jawbreakers mixed dirt.
why is it that every time i smoke my nose bleed and head
i aint buying ur shit no i swear,
need the icky green with the bright white glare.
"keep steppen".
sell here.
dont need your blunts burning facial hair,
i would rather quit then buy ur drama nightmares in my sleep about the seed man monster.
chaceing me serving me up.
seed weasle pop when the pipes lit up.
when now ur ache old thing,
pillow case all bloody my head on sting.
im aggravated but can i do?
weed man be whats wrong wich you?
(chours)

(verse)
i the artificial dope man selling bags of trick,
it was just crumb without the straight up bullshit.
i the car over and i beat his ass down,
for even trying to sell it at a hundred a pound.
we must rid the its wrong it exests.
way we always end up smoking his shit.
all u over fockers all u gots is seeds.
and ur shit look a fucking bag of rice crispies.
my weed man gets the and poured it from 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 cough up green bags,
im eatin at ur sack bitch u eatin that,
im that ass for them headache bags,
its cause cause u people dont even like shagg.
"thats the fuck im sayin man. yall motherfuckers sell some drankey ass shit man. yall sell stems and steeds and shit. if im smoke im gunna smoke some premium"
(chours)
(verse)
i need no sesame seed.
i need no stickes and hay.
u aint gunna sell shit that weeds more like a give away.
it off to little kids for there school lunch change.
walking the neighbor hood selling joints of bird seed grain.
voice all cloths really stink.
like a bond fire what u think.
and got the to ask where ive been.
far the fuck away u and ur bag of peanut friends.
no hard feelings but shit sucks.
after breaking down an i only got 3 blunts.
so fuck u man stop sellin.
im not a snitch but im in the mood for tellin.
(chours)