Luyện nghe bài hát Older Gods

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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