Luyện nghe bài hát Preacher On A Sunday Morning

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

Oh yeah I'm on that shit
And I say right about now New 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 the hands better with the banger.
Guns I'm no
Keep an A.K when I battle probably throw a nigga parade. I'm known!
But who gives a fuck I care.
Don't lead them let the feed them.
had me thinking that Joey is fucked up!
Skiddles with the banging rooftops.
Life sucks for you maybe the Jew is
In the stay pieces to death to who baby.

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

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

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