Luyện nghe bài hát Sasquatch

After filling my reputation of whore
Soared to Taco Bell and I ordered some gorditas (Mmm, good!)
Wanted four more, ordered 'em, eat 'em
Then head to Thebe's for some gymnastics
Fantastic, I backflip on beat B
Cause we shit like the Dingleberry's on four cheetahs
Flow colder than Joe's or Domino's (Fuck it, whatever, um)
Trashwang scratched the knucks
Got some One tickets, I should hit that up
Drive by with puppy signs on the truck
Then see how many of they fans fit inside the trunk
Move over the and the cannabis
Try to the van and the whole band to Canada
Fuck the block news and the venues, they can't us
They can't stand us including fruits that channeling
The Ku Klux see me and my managers
But thank me when they ask where the Panels is (fuck)
Man, I now, I ain't still dope (nope)
But Chris and Rihanna's fuckin' again so there's hope
Oh fuck, I went there, bitch, I'm Ben's hair
Y'all barely breaking like self-esteem in a thin chair
Old Navy bitches love this gap, yeah this grin's
Watch a nigga smile five-year-old child
I'm it with Nak and the nigga from Green Mile, it's
Red Bull in this cup so a nigga may wild but
That's just all the sherm I was burning a while ago
Don't let me get hold of rifle
my nigga Sage Elsseser and Sean Pablo
Surrounded by them niggas that skate with a sick
And some freckled bitches with giant peaches vile
They never did that rhino

full of some lost souls
Sergeant of all, it's and Nak just nollied a pothole
with his momma's wishes for college
And coppers labeled a problem paying for Damianos
So through the swamp, nigga, follow me through the foxholes
Moral Orenthal a pretty bitch in a Bronco
Hopped right off the and stumbled into some Vatos
Threw a punch, got jumped, dusted off and walked home
Shit, it's like 6 p.m. and his temple
Hand in the cabinet by seven, the prescription oxies
Logo in the boxes, all my hostile
Cautious of your crosses, scoffing at doctrines
Bitches stupid as the group is
slightly, write precise to get a pussy nigga two chins
Man these stitches the loose lips, stumbled in a Ruth's Chris
Slid into a booth and hid the luggage from his trips
See, ball with Leonardo on the weekend now
And Maui on a route, we on the second season now
Small fry got 'em seasons salty, weeded,
up off me, end is breathing easy as bulimics barfing
From a different of doggy, from a different seed and cloth
And teeing off, believe it's Wang, nigga