Luyện nghe bài hát Older Gods

Aiyyo, I like a bat out of hell
Evil acapell's fly spittin' out of my
I hit the sky with springtime colors
Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads double this

They carve it in they wrist, pales berry
Straighten the crumbs left on the stove in my lady hair
yours the look gold God, the old tainted bald technique
Got these vestibules designer niggaz in whips

Jumpin' out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman II
We like Dorothy on ice
We in your hood we might circle, hats low in the Range
Switch lanes, my tire, peel out

Real loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your kid
I shitted on hood, got to your burner too late
I'm lookin' real good, out, shinin' like a fresh fifty cent piece
girlfriend, c'mere
Oh shit, you my man's niece, the pocket twenty

Bombs made of clay, Sexcapades place
We fucked in forty-eight shades walk up in your studio
Time slap engineer, it's lighter fluid to that style
me the matches now

Aiyyo rainbow Roley on the wrist, now what's
Niggaz bless this, eight and a half, Bally twist
E shakes, on lye, feedin' the seed's plate
Pullin' out, old dirty to rob gates

Major wake up, the kid telltales, a nigga head wake up
Beats break, the would take off his time
status, gladdest
The rich rock cabbage and dollar vans

That nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of
Niggaz came out
came home, now they bunked out
Money be longer than triple

'Til the sun burn out, that's my word, it with the burner out
way of thinkin', roll with the Mac bent Ac-10
Most of my team, Five Percent what the live said
Rollin with Guess vests yo
Holdin' my nuts, fuckin' thousand lesbians

Yo, the Older God put me on and had to this
Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live
It only takes a a day, just to analyze life
One time in the mind

Yo, the Older God put me on and had to this
Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live
It only takes a lesson a day, just to life
One time in the mind

Let the shot spark, as his pit bull barks
Tire from skid marks leaves from jams in school parks
Witness, forget his original
Even in protection there's no escapement

Gunned down, we in town, hit king from crowns
rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Zebra Lounge
Wounded, back in the eighty three summer
Up in three-oh-nine park, off the drummer's beat

I stalk the city demonstratin' mic wrecks
All lookin' stank, I ain't wit a full deck
And as they nervously stare, I know scared
They saw the coming of Wu, the in Times Square

name, assassin, killa bee
Mill to the grain, that the Wu, trilogy
Quick to spot those that camouflage and blend
Those that got styles, got identical twins

Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are
skills, they master the art of mimicry
But I go line for line on the whole
Your unspotted on the mic is old age