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 springtime
Juicy as a Sunkist, broads double dutch this

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

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

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

Bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take
We fucked in forty-eight shades might up in your studio
Time slap your engineer, it's lighter fluid to 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, puffin' on lye, feedin' the plate
Pullin' out, old dirty to rob gates

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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