Luyện nghe bài hát Rework The Angles

* also featured on sway and king "this or that"

[a.g.]
it out now
I work the like, off the cushion in the sidepocket
Electrifying a live socket
Hit em all flavors, yup
We tryin to be with pro-ballplayers, I'm talkin papers
Or it realer, and see me on a iron caterpillar
On point like a killer, ready, to deliver
gifted, treat the mic right, or I might rip it
Critics dig my style I write different, no hype
I just it, low-lifes, they wanna get it
I shine like the ice I hold mics, everytime
Got every dime, sayin this nigga so nice, you what?
They so right, you get stuck, go twice
Lit it up when I blow

Show mic precise, require
That's no hassle, the got more loops than lassos
Y'all me? they all conspiracy theories
Worthless, like ev' defeats the purpose
Since the beginning, by pot and attentive women
and windmills on concrete
Covered by cardboard, to skyline
Bottom line, in rhyme yo, put in time you
That's sometimes I get so hyped
I feel like diamond d the best on the mic
I this -- most punchlines are tasteless
Regular, average, mediocre,
To all my dj's, with skills you got a
This on your mixtape, yo it coulda been hotta
The method in game they'll have you drained and strangles
Don't go to them, let em come to you, and the angles

Don't sleep on, I leave your knee torn, sehorn
Liquid mc storm, like children of the corn, a wild
Of energy, fit to last a century
Like centuries, one double-zero to victories
You kiddin me me? wack that's not my history
the wack and break his ankles, remember +misery+?
Lyrically you're out of control
Work the angles 'round the globe, from newark to south
It's so cold mc's catch pneumonia
I'm airborne, from l.a. to
I rock heads from out the bronx
Drop the sure needle contact, now me launch
Dj's, you jugglin, means I'm bubblin
Defari on the remix fix, this shit is
Picture me or droppin the ball
like picturin guy without that nigga aaron hall

Well if a gets the best of me
Ain't no use in and blaming the referee
Fuck that, I the mic with tenacous d
it up to evidence, yo kick it out to me!
Line up the three, stroked properly
Rocca, I work the angles triple
The hip-hop real monopoly
My g is god, your g for, geometry?
This man of war cold on the seashore
An deeo to take it to the sea floor
Every single bangs like a c-4
We drop beats, why you asking what the beat
The spitfire fighter dilated
I'm learning shockers like shockra building
While barbershops sipping like the kennedy's
I'm always been independent, that's word to b
guaranteed

Make and slingshots, I bust khakis out, bounce to the weed spot
Naturally, me and my faculty never with this
I used to love h.e.r. too, but now I fucking the bitch
She's sucking up to all the niggas the chains and whips
But that's alright, all she do for me is pay the rent
And keep it moving, got a bad of losing my cool
Acting a fool, breaking out tools, and making the corwd move
Towards the exit, this be the shit, we got you dilated
than satan, the repeated parole violations
Xzibit the angles, cordless to dirty angels
How the west was with microphones and turntables