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 that all to yourself dawg"
(verse)
Here he comes in his ice truck once again,
sellin bags of when its gunna end?
haven little ass kids dont know any better,
smoking bags of mud and calling 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 insult me smarts this fucking shwag.
i smoke crumble and get so i cant see,
come and then i got your ass standing before me,
a bag of barn floor like "tryin to smoke one up".
mr. sesame fucking ass shut up u need punch,
for every headache hit that i fuck off my jock before i rock ur block.
and send u back to ur connect with ur eyes swollen money gone but ur aint stolin.
"keep shit"
(chorus)
mr. seed theres somthing wrong wich yo bag,
its seed than its weed,
stems and sticks out to had.
a man tell me somthing what the is wrong wich u?
"fuck is wrong you?"
bitch ass motherfucker what the is wronge wich you?
"fuck is wich you?"
(verse)
seed no bun for a bag,
instead of weed you should call it little and crack.
what? you got a bag of jawbreakers mixed dirt.
why is it that every time i smoke my nose bleed and hurt?
i aint buying ur no more i swear,
need the stickey icky green with the white glare.
"keep steppen".
sell here.
dont your blunts poppin burning facial hair,
i would rather quit smoking then buy ur drama nightmares in my about the seed man monster.
me down serving me up.
seed weasle goes pop the pipes lit up.
now ur ache same old thing,
pillow case all with my head on sting.
im but what can i do?
weed man wanna be whats wich you?
(chours)

(verse)
i seen the artificial dope man selling of trick,
it was just crumb the next straight up bullshit.
i pulled the car and i beat his ass down,
for even trying to sell it even at a 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 a fucking bag of rice crispies.
my weed man gets the shit and it from his suit.
and these rainforest ridin on 24's,
and u ride the neighborhood on a unicycle,
sellin that rong to people who know right, though.
so get bitched slaped off it and cough up green bags,
im at ur weed sack bitch u eatin that,
im beating ass for them 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. yall sell stems and steeds and shit. if im gunna im gunna smoke some premium"
(chours)
(verse)
i dont need no seed.
i need no stickes and hay.
u aint gunna sell that that weeds more like a give away.
raffel it off to little for there school lunch change.
walking through the neighbor hood joints of bird seed grain.
voice all raspy cloths stink.
like a bond fire what u think.
and got the nerve to ask ive been.
far the fuck away u and ur bag of peanut friends.
no hard feelings but shit sucks.
breaking down an ounce i only got 3 blunts.
so fuck u man stop sellin.
im not a fucking snitch but im in the for tellin.
(chours)