Luyện nghe bài hát Rusty

Watch me get this money nigga, tired of being hungry
Nothing funny, sass me while I'm thrashing, punch a nigga
Never made of plastic, I'm a savage, you look my nigga
Passing all you hating fucking we don't discuss, my nigga
We ain't on no jolly shit and we pop no mollies, bitch
I'm hockin', spitting got niggas out here poppin' Ollie switch
Buncha novices, odd future the squad, its
Them young is back and brash, attacking with no common sense
We the of a dying breed
And we don't give a fuck, so we supply your needs
You niggas who had said our hype 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 this money, I'm up when the bird's
Make actions, fuck

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

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

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

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

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

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