Luyện nghe bài hát Something's Wrong With Him

Uhh, yeah, my conference calls with Los and consists of
(Nigga, it down, there's way too much killin')
Of course I ignore 'em, a man talk
I don't give a if I throw my poor fans off

Pathetic war done entered my
And permanently me now I'm angry
So a metaphor, fuck hip hop, hip hop sucks
You got, niggaz on top from 2Pac's nuts

like, I could go in the lab and try to write
Somethin' that's or bright
But I will be holdin' my scripture's in the dark
Deep rooted inside my soul
Uncontrollable like The Hulk's

My wife don't my album, it's way too dark for women
She say it sound I hold grudges
She listen to Joe Budden's, no disrespect aight?
But fuck a party now and like

(What's wrong witchu nigga? Every you killin')
(Every rhyme you is violently put)
but I have no problem
With puttin' this gun down and yo' ass up

I was taught rhyme from the heart, they will you
I like the dark, you cut on them lights, I kill you
(Something's with him)

(Just his pops he don't give a fuck)
(If you like him or not, a major problem)
I will yo' ass in church
And apologize to Jesus later,

Why am I hot and you not and why is you
And why I got shit in my pocket but lint?
This ain't rap no mo', this not a
is beef, there's a couple street niggaz that got to go

My is Nickel, I'm from the suburbs
(Yeah)
It's only a ten minute to come and get you
(Yeah)

Tired of you hoes, I will slap side ways
ya nose, partnah
(Partnah)
I know we got but I will still show up
At funeral and hug yo' ugly ass momma

Everybody wanna why the flow is so bad
(Why is you so mad?)
Everybody

(What's witchu nigga? Every song you killin')
(Every rhyme you spit is put)
Lethal but I no problem
With puttin' this gun and beatin' yo' ass up

I was taught rhyme the heart, they will feel you
I like the dark, you cut on them lights, I kill you
(Something's with him)

I'm a natural since I wrote Black
I hope you don't think that I won't smack yo' bitch
'Cause I clap her if she happen to be witchu
When I you

You can get ideas, nobody you thugs
I will put out the bub on top of yo'
This .22 rifle, be shootin' them bouncin'
The enter into your head and exit out yo'

Ride off as soon as my turns, you click
And them is lookin' for eyeballs
(Yeah)
You could bring yo' roughest, thug
That's jealous, just tell him to touch me, I fuck him up

I will his ass out
And if I can't him I will grab my heater and pop his ass
Fuck yo' life, stripes I will yo' hood
And I ain't never dyin', on wood, whattup 'Los?

(What's wrong witchu nigga? Every you killin')
(Every rhyme you is violently put)
but I have no problem
With puttin' this gun and beatin' yo' ass up

I was rhyme from the heart, they will feel you
I like the dark, you cut on them lights, I will you
(Something's wrong him)