Luyện nghe bài hát Older Gods

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

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

out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman Part II
We Dorothy Hamill on ice
We in your we might circle, hats down low in the Range
lanes, change my tire, peel out

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Let the shot spark, as his pit bull barks
Tire scars from skid marks from jams in school parks
Witness, forget his statement
Even in protection programs no escapement

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

I the city streets demonstratin' mic wrecks
All lookin' stank, I playin' wit a full deck
And as they nervously stare, I they scared
They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in 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, they got twins

Don't stretch the thing, copycats are finnicky
Without skills, master the art of mimicry
But I go for line on the whole page
unspotted life on the mic is old age