Luyện nghe bài hát Perfume

1]
Trap Lord in my belly, free my Really
smoking that smelly, ménage is in the telly
Blind bitch name Shelly, dick under her
I met that bitch at a fashion show, she was rocking
I was with Quasey Casey all that Versace
be in there sailing, smoking that Beijing
Ten in my pocket, for no reason I got it
Fuck around and hit Sin City, tell bitch to pop it
What's up you and Purrp? I ain't into all of that gossip
He brought the into my crew, you gotta ask Rocky about it
All I know is riding in them Maybachs
40. cal, we spray that, AK brratt you take nap
Oh, Lord, Hood Pope - oh, Lord, that Trap Lord
Why they call you Trap Lord? Cause you a rap to my casket
I ain't to no time, Hood Pope on my gold shine
My dirty wanna tote nine, but we talk rhyme
I tell 'em up

All I know is that Trap Lord, that Hood
All I know is that Trap Lord, but a rap Lord to my casket
All I is that fast Porsche smoking that good smoke
Model bitch who from Brazil, she it on her culo
'round the city feeling like P. Diddy
Glock 9 in my silk shirt, nigga, no Pac and no
Riding 'round the city like P.Diddy
9 in my silk shirt, nigga, no Pac and no Biggie

2]
No reply when you call Lord, mama cry her throat soar
Liechtenstein when I drunk [?] you was in this war hall
Body left near the staircase of the whole mob
Don't mean no fucking thing when I up in that Goyard
Shooked up from that toe star, ask questions like
can you feel your fucking legs? I bet that nigga cannot walk
Persian bitch stack coke hard, sniff white her nose soft
I fucked that bitch with no rubber, that bitch be so raw
when the semi huff, nigga really gonna pop
Trunks when you see me duck, niggas really
punks can't see the God trap, truly Lord
And I click like Donkey Kong I hit this long
Better run you see the mob, you be seeing God
Hear the drum my niggas march, you gon' see Allah
You the son of a bitch nigga, you daddy a
You a bitch, bitch nigga, probably wearing bras