Luyện nghe bài hát Oldie

[Intro:
Yo, out to everybody that worked on the album
You feel me, son? Yo, shouts out to Ty
Shouts out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Brizzle
Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie
Shouts out to Syd the Dude, out to L-Boy Awk
1: Tyler the Creator]
Big bandit is tossin' all his manners
In a bag and wrappin' them in seran bandages
Tossin' 'em in baskets with the rest of those
So when he says "Catch up, nigga" it looks an accident
Um, flowin' my pad is the maxiest
My bitch white and black like she's mimickin' a panda
It's the dark nigga, kissin' bitches in Canada
Then kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did
Put her in the chamber all against her Chamberlain
I never had a Reason, I was just Ableton
Not a Logic contradictin' dick head
Flyer an ostrich moshin' in a tar pit
Semen cheetah printed tee
In that five panel, I'll repeat it for the season
items in the present
With the normal ass past I cheated on my team
It's me (Tried to get nigga, but, Golf Wang)
2: Hodgy Beats]
To have some type of that is one perception
But knowin' you own opponent is a defeatin' bonus
I'm Zeus to a Kronos, cartridge is boneless
Smiles of in lead showers, dead spouses in red blouses
Children who fled on Mustang horses and went joustin'
I'm on my Robin shit, robbing in the hood
Whips, drugs, jewels, and your pet, I'm stealin' rings
Coke diamonds and your Vet, lace the fuckin' boot
And salute the troop when you shoot you gon' poop
It's KillHodgy, nigga, the fuck off my stoop
And out my aid, Juice
[Verse 3: Left
got the juice, I got the gin
Jasper got the Henny, my we get it in
Wolf Gang party at the
I call a ho, you a ho, and all the hoes tell
You Left Brain need a freak
I need a bitch to go down like a Nitty
Yup, uh, and her ass fat
Don't be if I ask where the hash at
Nigga I'm tryna smoke, bitch get
where that Flocka Flame? Talking 'bout a lighter
Still bang salute me or shoot me
Cause if you salute me then my team will do the shooting
Yeah my Ace will pull the black jack
The king Mike G is in the cut with the mac
Living like the Mafia, bitch, get to slacking up
And if these haters acting up, throw 'em in the
Free my nigga Earl, yo, I really ask for much
But two bad in front of me cunnilingus
4: Mike G]
What the fuck is
Often I you flossing and cause exes next to coffins
Lost in translation, the you chase
Got you for the plates like you stealing home base
That's great, I'm home alone of two on ones
With Rihanna and Christina Milian, it on
And Travis is in the closet organizing and hanging the
Three lettermans that Ace has been him
No strays we catching matinees, huh?
I'm blazed thinking 'bout those days
I had the top off the GT3 toupees
One finger in the air, all's fair crime pays
My grand scheme of is to be attached
To the game like bitches to their rings
And you don't even need to look cause we gleam
In the light, ride slow to my diamond shining
Like the Batman logo over Gotham, rock LA to
If you say "Get 'em G" then I got 'em
One man squadron, nigga I'm a
From Briggs I got and plans to
Pimp these Polish bitches pop stars
Humanity kills, we all suffer from insanity
And if I said it then it is or it's be real
OF I OD and I probably will, uh
[Verse 5: Domo
It's still Mr. Smoke-a-Lotta-Pot, get your mommy popped
With my other bop, do I love her? prolly not
Know your shit is not as hot as anything I drop
Bitch I'm in the zone, stand alone, Macaulay Cock
I've been runnin' blocks since a tot
Big wheel was a big deal with the Glocks
Now I'm all grown, sing songs just to 'em watts
Fire what I talk, but still cooler an Otter Pop
Op Dom neck shit in your wish
Mad shit, mad dick for your bitches
On some slick shit, your on my hit list
And I'm 'til I'm stiff out of this bitch
Odd in your area
Blood clots give me five feet 'fore I ya
Suicide flow, let the big carry ya
Tyler got the mask he held Jim Carrey up
And fuck your team, ho nigga
Wolf Gang so you know we not no fucks
You me dog, I'm a chill in the cut so I can
Cut it short, break it down, pounds, roll it up

Get me a rug where the center looks like Galaga
[Verse 6: Frank
a super car for a day
Drive around your friends, smoke a gram of that haze
Bro, easy on the ounce, a lot for a day
But just enough for a week, my nigga can I say
I'm hi and I'm Bi, wait, I I'm straight
I'mma give you this wine, the runner brought the grapes
My brother give it time, Morris, and Day
you know the vibe's as fly as the rhymes
On the song, cut and you could sample the
bleed, make this shit sound real
Used to work the grill, fatburger and
Then I made a mil and psychics was liars
Now, how many fucking crystal can I buy and own
old me had to flex for the fogs
Down in Muscle Beach pumping iron and
Bumping oldies off my phone
Yeah, oldies off my cellular phone

Goddammit, rapping is stupid and it's hard
Gotta do it and over and over again but here I go
[Verse 7: Dolphin]
Hey Jasper, not even a rapper
Only on this beat to my racks grow faster
Got a TV show, so I guess I'm an
Pot head, half baked, like Chappelle
Rollin' up a blunt with that fire hell
ignorant, still hit a bitch
Wolf Gang, nigga, so I don't give a shit
Catch me in the with Miley on my lap
Bong as I feel on that little bitch cat

Hah, nigga came through with a 9 bar quick
Just for the bitches, little bit of money in my
it, Wolf Gang
[Verse 8: Sweatshirt]
Yeah, fuck that, look, for contrast is a of lips
Swallowin' sarapin, settin' fires to whips
(Whoosp, whoosp) fuckin' terrorist
Crushin' rapper larynx to feed 'em a fuckin' carrot
And me? I just a year Ferrisin'
And lost a little to show you what hysterics is
Spit to the meet the bottom of a barrel
So that sterile piss flow remind these where embarrassed is
Narrow, tight line, impair him since
I made it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero
Feral, fuckin' ill apparel, wearin' of parasites
Threw his own youth off the after paradise
La di da di, back in here to the party up
Raidin' fridges, tippin' vases with a tommy gun
dollars, poppa make it rain hockey pucks
And 60 day chips from fuckin' awesome
him bloated 'til he show 'em that the flow deluxe
Off the loafers, Four Loko, and a cobra clutch
bold and rough, evoke a ho to pose as drum
And let me hit and beat it with a stick until the hole was
The culprit of the punch
Scoldin' hot as scrotum in a Folgers cup
Or Nevada, drivin' drunk inside a stolen
Shittin' his colon bust
Belly full of chicken and a fifth of old
Supernova, I'm over the novices
I'm roamin' through the forest and spittin' as the porridge is
Stay gold 'til the case closed and the end
Post mortem porkin' this rap and record it
To escort it to the morgue again, of lips
Bored of this, forklift the top, best under 40 list
the gate, ensurin' the bass
Scorchin' ladies motherfucker sore in torso and
Get at me with savages, have a pack of
Indian pack of niggas who don't give a fuck if we as flatulence
As a matter of fact, your swagger is
So see me you like Crunchy Black catchin' a taxi
Back lateral passin'
that mothafuckin' gladiator manner of rappin'
As an addict I let Percocet and Xannies me
back if your paddies is Maxi, please
[Verse 9: the Creator]
OF, that's all I got
From my bigger brother Frankie to my brother Tac
From that father figure Clancy to that skatey nigga
Shredding 'Fax, Wolf Gang run the fucking block
Storefront, tat
cover is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
And grip tape...and my
Um, I was 15 I first drew that donut
5 later, for our label yea we own it
I an empire, I ain't even old enough
To drink a fucking beer, I'm off this soda pop
is for the niggers in the suburbs
And the white kids with friends who say the n-word
And the ones that got weird, fag, bitch, nerd
Cause you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven
They say we acting right
Always try to our fucking color into black and white
But never change 'em, never understand 'em
my anthem, turn my fucking amps up
So instead of critiquing and bitching, mad as fuck
Just admit, not are we talented, we're rad as fuck, bitches

OFM, on your FM
Gnaw, 2011, yeah, Golf