Luyện nghe bài hát Oldie

[Intro:
Yo, out to everybody that worked on the album
You feel me, son? Yo, out to Ty Dollas
out to Hodgy Daddies, shouts out to Left Brizzle
Shouts out to Domyon, shouts out to Frankie
Shouts out to Syd the Dude, shouts out to Awk
[Verse 1: the Creator]
Big eared bandit is all his manners
In a bag and wrappin' in seran wrap bandages
Tossin' 'em in baskets with the rest of those
So when he "Catch up, nigga" it looks like an accident
Um, like my pad is the maxiest
My white and black like she's been mimickin' a panda
It's the dark nigga, kissin' bitches in Canada
kicking all out like Mr. Lawrence did Pamela
Put her in the all against her Wilt Chamberlain
I had a Reason, nigga I was just Ableton
Not a fuckin' contradictin' dick head
than an ostrich moshin' in a tar pit
Semen scented printed tee
In that 'Preme five panel, repeat it for the season
items in the present
With the normal ass past like I cheated on my
It's me (Tried to get nigga, but, Golf Wang)
2: Hodgy Beats]
To have some type of knowledge is one perception
But knowin' you own opponent is a defeatin' bonus
I'm to a Kronos, cartilage cartridge is boneless
Smiles of cowards in lead showers, dead in red blouses
Children who fled on Mustang horses and went joustin'
I'm on my Hood shit, robbing in the hood
Whips, drugs, jewels, and pet, I'm stealin' your rings
Coke diamonds and your Vet, soldiers lace the boot
And salute like the troop when you you gon' poop
It's KillHodgy, nigga, stay the off my stoop
And out my aid, Juice
[Verse 3: Brain]
got the juice, I got the gin
Jasper got the Henny, my we get it in
Wolf party at the hotel
I a ho, you call a ho, and all the hoes tell
You Left Brain need a freak
I need a bitch to go down a Nitty beat
Yup, uh, and her ass fat
Don't be if I ask where the hash at
I'm tryna smoke, bitch get higher
Domo where that Flocka Flame? 'bout a lighter
Still bang me or just shoot me
Cause if you don't salute me then my team will do the
Yeah my nigga Ace will the black jack
The Mike G is in the cut with the black mac
like the Mafia, bitch, don't get to slacking up
And if these haters acting up, 'em in the aqueduct
Free my nigga Earl, yo, I don't really ask for
But two bad bitches in of me cunnilingus
4: Mike G]
What the is caution?
Often I leave you flossing and cause exes to coffins
Lost in translation, the you chase
Got you diving for the plates like you stealing home
That's great, I'm home alone dreaming of two on
Rihanna and Christina Milian, bring it on
And Travis is in the closet organizing and the tramp
Three lettermans that Ace has making him
No strays while we catching matinees,
I'm getting thinking 'bout those days
I had the top off the GT3 toupees
One finger in the air, fair when crime pays
My scheme of things is to be attached
To the like bitches to their wedding rings
And you don't even need to look we gleam obscene
In the light, ride slow to my yellow shining
the Batman logo over Gotham, rock LA to Harlem
If you say "Get 'em Mike G" I got 'em
One man squadron, I'm a problem
From Briggs I got bars and to
Pimp Polish bitches into pop stars
kills, we all suffer from insanity still
And if I it then it is or it's gonna be real
OF 'til I OD and I will, uh
[Verse 5: Genesis]
It's still Mr. Smoke-a-Lotta-Pot, get your baby popped
With my other bop, do I love her? prolly not
Know shit is not as hot as anything I fuckin' drop
Bitch I'm in the zone, alone, like Macaulay Cock
I've been runnin' since a snotty tot
Big wheel was a big deal with the Glocks
Now I'm all grown, sing songs just to give 'em
Fire I talk, but still cooler than an Otter Pop
Op Dom neck in your wish list
Mad shit, mad dick for your bitches
On some shit, your mistress on my hit list
And I'm 'til I'm stiff out of this bitch
Odd in your area
Blood clots give me feet 'fore I bury ya
Suicide flow, let the big wave ya
got the mask like he held Jim Carrey up
And fuck your team, ho wassup
Wolf Gang so you know we not no fucks
You know me dog, I'm a in the cut so I can
Cut it short, break it down, pounds, roll it up

Get me a Persian rug where the center looks Galaga
6: Frank Ocean]
Rent a car for a day
Drive around with your friends, a gram of that haze
Bro, easy on the ounce, a lot for a day
But just for a week, my nigga what can I say
I'm hi and I'm Bi, wait, I mean I'm
give you this wine, the runner just brought the grapes
My give it some time, Morris, and Day
Course you know the as fly as the rhymes
On the song, cut and you could the feel
Headphone bleed, make this shit sound
Used to the grill, fatburger and fries
Then I made a mil and them psychics was
Now, how many crystal balls can I buy and own
Humble old me had to for the fogs
Down in Muscle Beach pumping iron and
Bumping oldies off my phone
Yeah, bumping oldies off my phone

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

Hah, nigga came through with a 9 bar real
Just for the bitches, little bit of money in my
it, Wolf Gang
[Verse 8: Earl
Yeah, fuck that, look, for contrast is a pair of
sarapin, settin' fires to sheriffs whips
(Whoosp, whoosp) All-American terrorist
Crushin' rapper to feed 'em a fuckin' carrot stick
And me? I just spent a year
And lost a little sanity to show you hysterics is
Spit to the meet the bottom of a barrel
So that piss flow remind these niggas where embarrassed is
Narrow, tight line, might him since
I it back to Fahrenheit, grimey get dinero type
Feral, fuckin' ill apparel, pack of parasites
Threw his own youth off the roof after
La di da di, back in to fuck the party up
Raidin' fridges, tippin' over vases a tommy gun
Never dollars, poppa it rain hockey pucks
And 60 day chips from awesome anonymous
him bloated 'til he show 'em that the flow deluxe
Off the wall loafers, Loko, and a cobra clutch
Vocals bold and rough, evoke a ho to pose as
And let me hit and beat it with a stick until the was numb
The of the potent punch
Scoldin' hot as scrotum in a Folgers cup
Or Nevada, drivin' drunk inside a truck
Shittin' like his colon
full of chicken and a fifth of old petroleum
Supernova, I'm rollin' over the
I'm roamin' through the forest and cold as the porridge is
gold 'til the case closed and the story end
Post mortem porkin' this rap and record it
To escort it to the morgue again, of lips
Bored of this, forklift the tippy top, under 40 list
the gate, ensurin' the bass
Scorchin' ladies motherfucker in torso and face
Get at me with savages, a pack of Apache
Indian pack of niggas who don't give a fuck if we nasty as
As a matter of fact, your is tacky
So see me you can't like Crunchy Black catchin' a
Back like lateral
With that mothafuckin' manner of rappin'
As an addict I let Percocet and Xannies me
Fall back if your is Maxi, please
[Verse 9: the Creator]
OF, that's all I got
From my bigger brother Frankie to my brother Tac
From that figure Clancy to that skatey nigga Naks
Shredding down 'Fax, Wolf Gang run the block
Storefront, tat
Book is the same lettering on lettermans and cotton socks
And grip tape...and my
Um, I was 15 when I first drew that
5 years later, for our yea we own it
I started an empire, I even old enough
To a fucking beer, I'm tipsy off this soda pop
This is for the in the suburbs
And the white kids nigger friends who say the n-word
And the ones got called weird, fag, bitch, nerd
you was into jazz, kitty cats, and Steven Spielberg
They say we ain't right
Always try to turn our fucking into black and white
But they'll never change 'em, never 'em
Radical's my anthem, turn my fucking up
So instead of and bitching, being mad as fuck
Just admit, not only are we talented, rad as fuck, bitches

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