Luyện nghe bài hát Rack City

Yeah! Sourmilk,
L.A.
(Buzzin' on the ho!)

Alabama rich, I'm rich
records
Ghetto Vision, hello kids I'm in, bitch with hits
Big camera and, fuck around I leave your momma with a lit
Speaking of lit, happy birthday me
Radioactive is a for birthday treats
New house, fresh
It's like all my opponents saw me and said lose
move!
Is it me? or the "let's choose"
Cause' I'm the class, you mothafuckas slept through
So even the haters only my students
But a couple of questions I won't say yes too
Like Mr Mr bob dobalina can I sick em for ya Bob?
Can I pick ya chrome nina up, and off for ya from afar with the beamer?
Cause I seen him, he's a fault, he's a cob cleaner
I shoulda loose but I refuse to be an o-bama-nator
You on me and you probably an o-bama-hater
Laugh at you chronic players, sit with a sonic laser, and shoot you from Pluto with a soup full of now-and-laters
Niggas can still see in the shot, cause I'm a fader
these cowards without a doubt of my power
And take ya bitch without a shower til I'm sour til hours later, she still come back lying about the one that her gave her. (ugh!)
Everybody knows I'm a loose cannon, with a wick the size of a fuckin toothpick, better back up and assume the damage
What I this beat is like a treat for a chief example
That I got a way with tracks, a Chinese weave
Back away from the bicycle, fit you better
Pick another cypher, better yet up rifle, and do ya self a favor
And kill ya self hoe!
And do it next to a river so gotta dig a hole.