Luyện nghe bài hát On My Briefcase

(lynch):
Now on my briefcase was crumbled weed
A of saravegas and a 24 ounce o.e.
Might as well skeez these couple of
In my 69 sittin' on trues and vogues
For days you might seen me in my cinnamon cut chrome shoes
With you can't see me tint on the windows indo syndrome
Smokin' it up, not givin' a fizuck
Sold the cut, my ex-hoe said that sqautin' what?
Got at the homie carl, and got some of that
Had me so fuckin' high I got off vietnam
Dead and bitches clits simmerin' in the crock pot
And the shit don't stop until my muthafuckin' or high drop
It's just that insane type of thang, let the mac rain in the drain
Siccmade they make the world go round
And if you with siccmade music you can get your ass gunned down

(phonk beta):
I had a homie who up in alaska, used to transfer flights over nebraska
And me back about a ounce of that alaska indica weed
And out of the whole zip possessed one
Had it wrapped tight all up in cellophane
have the k-9 dogs smell it, man
If you saw what I was seein', the buds was almost pure white, not green
Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome
That's the type a tweed that makes you fuck your baby-sitter
I roll a fattie, when I roll this
Niggas'll be all noid wonderin' why they at me
Bitches have the to say my shit ain't bomb
But it'll have your lungs burnin', your puffin' on napalm

(zagg):
I wipe that up off my forehead, I'm off the cusche
Lay back and take a comfortable hit, a q-tip, it's splittin' my lips
And my dome split off toothpicks
I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin' dead in ditches
Appreciate the fact, come correct, 'cause I could be
Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm up from behind
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all prepared to go for
So step in line, a of hits, dome split, I be lit on a for real base
With a machete I'll slice your just like them jason cases
Murder traces, but I ain't 'cause there's no evidence
Slight scent of that cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
What's the lesson? get tested, don't come if you can't correct
It's that west coast shit for life I don't what you expected
I'm reckless, I'm a pimp in a bulletproof vest
it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step down
50 caliber rounds, I'm runnin' through your town
Buckin' em down like doom set on deathmatch with the bfg-9000