Luyện nghe bài hát Older Gods

Aiyyo, I roll a bat out of hell
Evil fly spittin' out of my grill
Before I hit the sky with colors
Juicy as a Sunkist, certain broads dutch this

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

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

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

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

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

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

That nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of
came clumped out
Just came home, now bunked out
be longer than triple life

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

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

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

Let the shot spark, soon as his pit barks
scars from skid marks leaves from jams in school parks
Witness, forget his statement
in protection programs there's no escapement

Gunned down, we in town, hit king seven crowns
Spent rounds 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 stank, I ain't playin' wit a full deck
And as nervously stare, I know they scared
They saw the of Wu, the neon in Times Square

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

Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are
Without skills, they master the art of
But I go line for line on the whole
Your life on the mic is old age