Luyện nghe bài hát Preacher On A Sunday Morning

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

Oh yeah I'm on that shit
And I say about 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 fake
Nice with the better with the banger.
I'm no stranger
Keep an A.K when I battle probably a fake nigga parade. I'm known!
But who gives a I don't care.
lead them let the welfare feed them.
Niggas had me thinking that Joey is up!
Skiddles with the maybachs rooftops.
sucks for you maybe the Jew is crazy
In the stay pieces to death to who baby.

Stay up on a preacher 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 cleaned up on a on a sunday morning,

King of New york, King of New York, but we don't ever see these niggas up in New
Can anybody tell me where
All these so called killers try their to dress gay.
Everybody beefing it's the old day.
All these mixtape now want to claim king
saying they are bringing New Yor back
But we the only niggas you pitch the back (crack!)
You the echo, son of a nesto I'll let the tec blow
You should feel sky plenty like pistol, fuck a phone call I barely got a

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