Luyện nghe bài hát People

in my pocket.
in my wallet.
If you 'bout my profit,
All I see is people.
All I see is people.
You starve so when my momma make a couple dollars,
Any nigga with a problem, be dyin' over dead people.
Muthafuckin' people.

shit gets deep.
Don't fuck me.
You end up six deep.
to how I did it.
I up slow on Willow.
Thinkin' 'bout climbin' through the window.
In the backseat, burners.
Ski mask, body bag, tape, and a pillow.
In the solo.
Sittin' low the lights out.
like Manson on some Sonny Sam shit.
With a murder on my that my mind on the homicide,
And my said they outta time.
Somebody gotta die, line.
page, column nine.
Headline: Columbine.
I plan and plot and strategized, and about it.
up everything in the closet.
My is to get bloody.
They can beg and plead, and scream.
Try to leave, get in cheese, pray to God on they knees, but I'm still fucking ugly.
I fuckin' it.
Took this nigga by his throat and cut it and thought nothin' of it.
It's insanity.
a murderous fantasy.
It's insanity.
a murderous fantasy of mine.
(Man, I feel killin me a mother fucka.)

night, I must've had a blast choppin up bodies.
Woke up bloody as fuck in the lobby.
filled with adrenaline.
Not what I did to get all this blood on my fuckin' Timberlands.
Cop's sayin I did to him?
me pictures of cut-up bitches, disfigured members with body parts missin.
Listen, I ain't do shit, I know shit.
Man, I don't give a fuck that bitch.
Fuck whatever she said, fuck she saw, it wasn't me.
Oh no no, not me.
to the alibi.
I was at the movies, that shit,
With them 3-D on,
And shit longer than mother fucka.
at my pocket, get the tickets though.
my alibi, bitch.
Now up?
out the cuffs, now I'm back on the outside,
And west where Homicide reside.
my nigga.
He live on 1st and 48th right next to the white chalk in between the tape,
the black gate.
Rottwielers and pitbulls, by snakes, AK's and AR's.
Some niggas hard to play, some niggas hard
But that house there, don't go in they yard
It's insanity.
Just a fantasy.
simple insanity.
Just a fantasy of mine.
(Man, I feel killin me a mother fucka.)

Beware of shit, shot 'em through the fence
offensive line men couldn't stop the blitz.
Them inside, a couple kittens
And this here, good riddance.
Nigga around, it's suicide for instance
Picture the mind of a
Here I come I can smell the aimin' for your head or neck.
Nigga, pray to God I hit your chest.
Now here I come straight drum, headed for your lungs.
You in my sight.
The one didn't do it right,
And I'm waitin.
Just at you.
Thinkin about it and tired of lookin at you.
Hi, daddy, me?
Goodbye, daddy, is what it gotta be.
You brought me in this world, now I'm you out.
Now you up your muthafuckin mouth.
insanity.
Just a fantasy.
insanity.
Just a murderous of mine.
(Now I feel like me a mother fucka.)