Luyện nghe bài hát Paper Plate

You seen someone who roll
With Mayweather, rhyme like Hatton
whatever you throw, a thousand is what I'm battin'
Got a few hooks with no
Took 'em out ya corndog and notepads

I get it, you got rich robbin' in the industry
Bite off one, steal from your enemy
Never try to play the one out ya camp
He might step off and take half the joules ya amp

Enough to make ya Vogue on cover of GQ
missin' the sheer blouse, homey, you see through
Stop sippin' on that 50
They want heat? I give it to 'em, burnt and

too short to box with God, so stretch it
Especially these raps, step to fetch it
I told you if I rain, there'll be an eternal
strips bein' chipped from sharp chizzles

One shatter your spine and crush your spirit
No matter what, you still window for lyrics
If you was a pimp, put on the stroll
And if those were soldiers, 'em bigger guns to hold

Who shot ya? You have enough on your roster
You like a fed, but you talk like a mobster
That yayo you slingin', please it
Too many cuts on it, cokeheads, won't snort it

I spray the Flea Unit pesticides, and you can get
Your best writers, get 'em all to testify
Have you ever been stung by a hornets?
Five hundred Killa Beez, buzzin' and on it

Whipped with Cuban Linx, and cut Liquid Swords
Choked by Ironmen 'til we crush your vocal
You ain't but a pig in the blanket
Hog head, the food at the banquet

All this rap crap, that's trapped in colon
means, get rid of the wack shit you holdin'
Sweet tooth dudes stay out the shop
You ain't gotta handcuff 'em to see the panties

A few cats is for a rat with cheese
Got to pitch, they all swing a bat with ease
Get ankles broke, while doin' your two-step
Leave a you note, for the crutches the Wu left

ProActive rap, you know they put in the cream
You and see Kanye in your dream
And yo, I don't smoke dust, I dust off and the Bandits
With the stroke off the canvas

I walk on your gators and lizards, the lynx
That was killed for your minks, you be rockin' in
Wanna be cop, 'til you walk to
And get for us, spread your wings like peacocks

I was an MC you was in Nutville
On a world tour, you was your guts filled
Ten years MC'ing, but I like I'm twenty-one
Straight Medina, with the mass of many suns
The supernova, off gamma ray bursts
And I'll finish this, 'cause I let off first, what's up