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, this with hits
Big camera and, around I leave your momma with a candle lit
Speaking of candles lit, birthday me
is a magnet for birthday treats
New house, shoes
It's like all my opponents saw me and said lose
move!
Is it me? or the "let's choose"
I'm teaching the class, you mothafuckas slept through
So the haters only instigating my students
But a couple of questions that I say yes too
Like Mr dobalina Mr bob dobalina can I sick em for ya
Can I pick ya chrome up, and pick off for ya from afar with the beamer?
Cause I seen him, a fault, he's a real cob cleaner
I shoulda been loose but I to be an o-bama-nator
You hate on me and you probably an
Laugh at you chronic players, sit with a sonic laser, and shoot you from Pluto a soup bowl full of now-and-laters
Niggas can still see in the shot, cause I'm a power
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 lying about the one that her momma gave her. (ugh!)
Everybody knows I'm a loose cannon, with a wick the of a fuckin toothpick, better back up quick and assume the damage
What I gave this beat is like a treat for a example
That I got a way with tracks, a Chinese weave
Back away from the bicycle, tricyles fit you
another cypher, better yet pick up rifle, and do ya self a favor
And kill ya midget hoe!
And do it next to a river so nobody dig a hole.