Luyện nghe bài hát Preacher On A Sunday Morning

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

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

They say is life and death, no future fronting.
I see a mac and a tec keeping duz
Coka,
Joe is a Cartagegna
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.
Don't them let the welfare 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 to death thanks to who baby.

Stay cleaned up on a preacher on a sunday morning, I got but I need more ice and alle
I say off the I'm a symphony, niggas 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 don't ever see niggas up in New york
Can anybody me where centropey
All these so killers try their best to dress gay.
Everybody it's the same old day.
All these mixtape now want to claim king
Everybody they are bringing New Yor back
But we the niggas you pitch back the back (crack!)
You the echo, son of a nesto I'll let the tec blow
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,
to see a couple of ends.
See I've been getting since who knows when
These other just all pretend
been bamboozled diz duzu say thugs
Love at madison square they givin group
Now let me take you to the of darkness,
Where I your favourite mc underneath my armpit the bronze kid.
I'm only the truth,
Shit, look these streets
May do