Luyện nghe bài hát On My Briefcase

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

(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 indica
And out of the zip possessed one seed
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 almost white, not green
Had to be one of those one hitter quitter dome
That's the type a tweed that makes you wanna fuck baby-sitter
I roll a fattie, when I roll fattie
be all noid wonderin' why they lookin at me
Bitches have the nerve to say my ain't bomb
But it'll have your burnin', like your puffin' on napalm

(zagg):
I wipe sweat up off my forehead, I'm off the cusche
Lay back and a comfortable hit, with 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
the fact, come correct, 'cause I could be vicious
Suspicion, comin' up on recognition I'm creepin' up from
With a 12 gauge, non-fiction, I'm all to go for mine
So step in line, a of hits, dome split, I be lit on a for real base
With a machete I'll slice your neck just like them jason
Murder traces, but I pinned 'cause there's no evidence
Slight scent of that purple cusche plant, and I can almost sense the
What's the lesson? get tested, don't come if you can't come
It's that coast shit for life I don't know what you expected
I'm reckless, I'm a pimp in a bulletproof vest
Puttin' it down, pound for pound, you to take a step down
50 caliber rounds, I'm through your whole town
Buckin' em like doom set on deathmatch with the bfg-9000 cartoon