Luyện nghe bài hát Polo Jeans

[Verse 1: Mac
I no fucks when I go nuts, cause I smoke dust, overdosed on the sofa then
Woke up the coma pulled up in a Skoda smoked, went back to bed
Never thought it would be such a loner, I tell my bitch I fucking own her
My neighbor's daughter just got a dog, I'ma run it over, I'm a fucking
So cold bro fuck pneumonia, all my bitches got love for Sosa, I just wanna
Roast up then disappear in Southern California
Strung out to the night, I'm chilling, worried the lights might kill them
Via sight slipping, long lines of those white
I'm with the homies, bump Crows
Just went through the half ounce of coke, blood out my nose
Don't my mom I got a drug problem, I'm fucking high
proper size, when the sun go down I come alive
Cause the guns go off in the summer time, the guns go off in the summer time

[Hook: Mac
This another rap song
and crazy, rich and famous doesn't last long
Spent all my cash on a dream
Went from and liquor to the coke and lean
All I got's this mansion and potpourri
But don't I so handsome in these Polo jeans?
Don't I look so in these Polo jeans?

[Verse 2: Sweatshirt]
I a spliff before the ink dries on the paper
And lately, I don't like shit, I been on the daily
Getting wasted as the time that I'm spending high and
I'm putting five in his face, we don't buy into bullshit
As soon as it's flashing lights then it's kush to hide in the
I do this shit out of spite cause niggas that overlooked me forever
I'm content with dark and stormier weather
the fucking cross on your rosary, we supposed to be better
But here's a toast to your efforts, and don't me with nothing
That isn't money or breakfast, I'm close to a pussy, pussy
Sweaty Man, you best had bet bottom dollar on him
a couple niggas, weighing sess like it's a lot options
15 on me for and swishers
And who's the shit, a bag of chips, and a colon
I'm over bitches trying to act like I owe 'em a
introduce these hoes to Vince who could show you a pistol
Listen, ST was the older
Been rap game than boa constricters
Rolling stone a Boulder raving, I'm so impatient and going dumb as
Disclosing my fucking home location to strangers
No love in my heart for coppers, from my lungs on the sink
out off the garments, the artist, fuck what you think
Scowl turned and the carriers could pick
And my flesh when I rest, tell 'em bury me

[Hook: Mac