Luyện nghe bài hát Rack City

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

Alabama rich, I'm rich
records
Ghetto Vision, hello I'm in, this bitch with hits
Big camera and, fuck around I leave momma with a candle lit
Speaking of lit, happy birthday me
Radioactive is a magnet for treats
New house, shoes
It's all my opponents saw me and said let's lose
move!
Is it me? or the "let's choose"
Cause' I'm the class, you mothafuckas slept through
So even the haters only instigating my
But a couple of that 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 pick off for ya from with the beamer?
Cause I him, he's 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 laser, and shoot you from Pluto with a soup bowl full of now-and-laters
Niggas can see in the shot, cause I'm a power fader
Shower these cowards without a doubt of my
And ya bitch without a shower til I'm sour til hours later, she still come back lying about the one that her momma 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 midget hoe!
And do it to a river so nobody gotta dig a hole.