Luyện nghe bài hát Rusty

Watch me get this money nigga, tired of being hungry
Nothing funny, sass me I'm thrashing, I'ma punch a nigga
made of plastic, I'm a savage, you look lunch my nigga
Passing all you hating fucking fags we discuss, my nigga
We ain't on no jolly shit and we pop no mollies, bitch
I'm hockin', spitting got some niggas out poppin' Ollie switch
Buncha novices, odd the squad, its thick
Them young niggas is back and brash, attacking with no sense
We the last of a breed
And we don't give a fuck, so we supply your needs
You stupid niggas who had said our is dying, please
My pocket's solid, making off the highest tees
Bitch, twerk as I get on the verse,
Dom so cool, I refer him in third person
Watch me get money, I'm up when the bird's chirpin'
Make actions, rehearsing

Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time,
You niggas gon' give me mine, I have plenty time
Flying out at any time, money, any grind
You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas give me mine

Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time,
You niggas give me mine, I don't have plenty time
Flying out at any time, getting money, any
You niggas gon' give me mine, you gon' give me mine

In a world where kids my age are popping mollies leather
on tumblr, never outside or enjoying the weather
Can name a sweater, but not a talent or don't know if
Or not got one, tried to change their life for the better
I was a club kid, I'd run with a fun dip, my nuts itched
I was defiant, said, "fuck shit"
Hated the popular ones, now I'm the one
Also hated homes too, til I start me some
See I don't beez in the trap, nigga, I in the b's
And I be in my buzz like some bees in a shell
Fucking sick and getting bigger like I on Adele
And bitches getting like they reading some braille
I bust quick gun-holders with short tempers, and well
I to tell the kids, like fuck it, start being yourself
These fucking rappers got stylists, it's cause they think for themselves
See, they don't have an identity, so they needed help, but
Really, boy posers silly boy
I'm in that past season 'preme shit, older than Boi
Not a diss, but same ice cream, my shit is (diddy riese)
smith transworld page 64
Poppin' like oil, ollies, and flames
I'm harder than DJ Khaled the fucking quiet game
The fuck am I saying? Tyler's not a violent name
I'm 'bout as threatening as stained in hurricanes
But he rapes women, and wrong, like he hate dentists
God damn menace, 666 and not finished
And my shit's missing, he women, but loves kittens
See niggas trippin' man
Look at that article says my subject matter is wrong
Saying I hate gays though frank is on 10 of my songs
Look at that mom who I'm evil, hold that grudge against me
Though I'm the reason that her son got to eat
Look at the kid who had the 9 and tried to out his mind
But is money, I said, "hi," I guess I bought him some time
Look at the ones in the crowd, shit is barnacles, huh?
They thought I wasn't fair I threw a carnival, huh?
But again, I'm an atheist that just worships Satan
And it's why I'm not getting no fucking album placements
And MTV could suck my dick, and I ain't fuckin'
Bruh, they played it, I just won shit for their fucking ratings
"Analog" fans are getting sick of the
All the Cat fans are getting sick of the lakes
But what about me, bitch? I'm getting of complaints
But I don't hate it when I'm daily trips to the bank
Over and over, shit, who really gives a what I think?
My fans don't think turning on me, shit, they're extinct
Fuck buying studio I'ma go purchase a shrink
Record the session and send all you a link, bitch

Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time,
You niggas gon' give me mine, I don't have time
Flying out at any time, getting money, any
You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' give me

Nigga, summer, fall, winter-time,
You niggas gon' me mine, I don't have plenty time
Flying out at any time, getting money, any
You niggas gon' give me mine, you niggas gon' me mine

This shit just the nights I look forward to not remembering
So much for sober, I hope that you can forgive me
But momma, I'm close to the edge as possible (why don't you jump you pussy?)
I'm seeing it's a drop in my ocular, like they told me
That the 40's half off, you know that cliff
Don't need a therapist to tell him he could that shit (fucking faggot)
Or get compared to fucking pair with all the kids
So maybe a pair of pale bitches for the gonads lick (I'll you)
Malt liquor filling me up, and all us not no fucks and
All of them sensitive chumps in awe when that pistol (pistol, I got one!)
Dirty one spitting that sumpy raw till his in the cuffs
Bitch gotta (Oh, shut the up!)