Luyện nghe bài hát Politics

Oh mercy, me.
At point of my career I should already be on my third CD/
But every turn of the way has been met adversity/
But Im cursed, it seems, and I been disserviced
And its herbs like these, got my blood boiling to the third degree/
And Im nervously avoiding urge to just burst and scream/
Feeling the thirst for revenge! I can no pretend/
That mentally I be plummeting off the deep end/
Im desperately seeking these motherfuckers,
Just so I can teach never to speak on any of us/
something you wanna say?
Get that other rappers cock out your throat! No wonder hes coming out your face/
Son, never doubt The Plague, we infect against even the best/
medicines and vaccines, and bactrine/
Im fed up the rap scene/
As Im Dealing with an amount of politics that would even give the bad dreams/

thing you see and hear was paid for/
So, dont try to discredit me, cause my shit isnt played
Just imagine to wait, bored, at the stage door/
Cause nothing aches worse than a name on the marquis when it aint
And youre trying to make noise, but all you gets hate,
From biased record pools thatll chart anything for their crate/
Or elitist DJs that only spin go get pressed!/
But em a Nas exclusive MP3 and theyll play the shit dead.
These double-standards can be seen in many arenas of the game/
radio burn to video screens, the shits the same/
From Magazines to mix DJs You em the green, they give the OK
Cause are greedy leading the race, they sell you a dream and spit in your face/
And it isnt easy to look away, when youre focused on your Budden
Pumped up with potential, but you cant nothing from here/
anything done? Then you gotta do it yourself with no help/
When you make on your own? Then shows to share the whole wealth.
But, Oh Another day in a cold hell.
When everyone riding your coattails are the same cats thatll pray your dont sell/
I wont for NO REMARKS about room for improvement/
When you boo at QN5 and refuse to the music/
Bitch, youre fronting on the future, stop watching back and face forward/
Reviewers to listen to this like they paid for it/
Cause, what the fuck!? Do I to get shot to get props?
Do you need talent? I guess not but with drug money and a spot/
You can spend lots on a track from the of the month/
And thatll you with the buzz, thatll get you news-scoops and the pub/
But Buddy, Im flat broke. So on that note, Ill say to articles/
Bookings for college shows, distribution pushing us for dough/
Then you wondering why youre the same niggas over and over/
The more original the flow, then, the colder the
The same reason you cant stand that you heards/
The same reason you it word for word. Dog, its Politics.

My patience is
Im in no political position or famous enough to state my opinion/
Of this game and its minions, Im silent and numb/
Cause you cant put your foot in your mouth or swallow your words while youre biting your
So nice-guy reluctance, Im fighting my grudges/
And its hard to be polite with when youd rather take a knife to fuckers/
Heres my final shot at believe this/
for your third strike, Im calling you out on the remix/

I cant
And I see
And I move
Cause Im sick and tired of these

I sleep
And I think
And I live
Cause Im sick and of these politics.