Luyện nghe bài hát Preacher On A Sunday Morning

Kilka, mania,
Get used to one,
"crack"

Oh yeah I'm back on that
And I say right now New York City.

They say is and death, there's no future fronting.
I see a mac and a tec duz coming
Coka,
Joe is a Cartagegna
Nice with the better with the banger.
I'm no stranger
Keep an A.K when I probably throw a fake nigga parade. I'm known!
But who gives a I don't care.
Don't lead them let the welfare them.
Niggas had me that Joey is fucked up!
Skiddles with the banging rooftops.
Life sucks for you the Jew is crazy
In the stay pieces to death to who baby.

Stay cleaned up on a on a sunday morning, I got cake but I need more ice and alle
I say off the streets I'm a symphony, want my sympathy presiding official remedy,
Stay up on a preacher on a sunday morning,

King of New york, King of New York, but we ever see these niggas up in New york
Can anybody tell me centropey
All these so called killers try their to dress gay.
beefing it's the same old day.
All these mixtape now want to claim king
Everybody saying they are New Yor back
But we the only niggas you back the back (crack!)
You hear the echo, son of a nesto I'll let the tec
You should sky plenty like pistol, fuck a phone call I barely got a whistle

Coka, there's no one
Get off knees get a job at the carter.
Throw a banks and your friends,
Yougarentee to see a of ends.
See I've been money since who knows when
These other just all pretend
You've been diz duzu say thugs
Love at madison square they givin group
Now let me you to the streets of darkness,
Where I your favourite mc underneath my armpit the bronze kid.
I'm speaking the truth,
Shit, look these streets
May do