Luyện nghe bài hát Older Gods

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

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

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

loud on the stage yo, I shitted on your hood kid
I shitted on hood, got to your 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 pocket twenty

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

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

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

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

'Til the sun burn out, my word, move 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 vests pedestrians yo
Holdin' my nuts, fuckin' thousand lesbians

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

Let the shot spark, soon as his pit bull
Tire scars from skid 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 seven
Spent 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 streets mic wrecks
All lookin' stank, I playin' wit a full deck
And as they stare, I know they scared
They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in Square

Household name, assassin, bee
Mill to the grain, that the Wu, trilogy
Quick to spot those 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 for line on the whole page
Your unspotted on the mic is old age