Luyện nghe bài hát On My Briefcase

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

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

(zagg):
I wipe that sweat up off my forehead, I'm off the
Lay back and take a comfortable hit, a q-tip, it's splittin' my lips
And my dome stays off toothpicks
I hit a with a quickness, dumpin' dead bodies in ditches
Appreciate the fact, come correct, 'cause I be vicious
Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm creepin' up behind
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all to go for mine
So step in line, a couple of hits, 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 pinned 'cause there's no evidence
Slight scent of that cusche plant, and I can almost sense the essence
the lesson? get tested, don't come if you can't come correct
It's that west coast shit for life I don't know you expected
I'm reckless, nevertheless I'm a in a bulletproof vest
Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you need to take a step
50 caliber rounds, I'm through your whole town
Buckin' em like doom set on deathmatch with the bfg-9000 cartoon