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 candles lit, happy me
is a magnet for birthday treats
New house, fresh
It's all my opponents saw me and said let's lose
move!
Is it me? or the "let's choose"
Cause' I'm teaching the class, you slept through
So even the haters instigating 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 ya chrome nina up, and pick off for ya from afar with the beamer?
I seen him, he's a fault, he's a real cob cleaner
I been loose but I refuse 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 fader
Shower these without a doubt of my power
And take ya bitch without a shower til I'm sour til hours later, she 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 quick and assume the
What I gave this is like a treat for a chief example
That I got a way tracks, a Chinese weave scandal
Back away the bicycle, tricyles fit you better
Pick another cypher, yet pick up rifle, and do ya self a favor
And ya self midget hoe!
And do it next to a river so gotta dig a hole.