Luyện nghe bài hát On My Briefcase

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

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

(zagg):
I that sweat 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 stays split off toothpicks
I hit a lick with a quickness, dumpin' dead bodies in
Appreciate the fact, correct, 'cause I could be vicious
Suspicion, up on recognition I'm creepin' 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 slice your neck just like them jason cases
Murder traces, but I ain't pinned 'cause no evidence
scent of that purple cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
What's the lesson? get tested, don't if you can't come correct
It's west coast shit for life I don't know what you expected
I'm reckless, nevertheless I'm a pimp in a bulletproof
Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you to take a step down
50 caliber rounds, I'm runnin' through whole town
Buckin' em down like set on deathmatch with the bfg-9000 cartoon