Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I like racism, I'm as large as a bigot
Groove is my escapism when I'm bubbly I kick it
I need from you is understanding that I'm standing
On my own two, with my own crew

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the bone too, I'm prone to off
When I'm off Cognac, I can't hold back like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned from right to tight
When time for some action, I get Red's, "Tonight's Da Night"

An eye for an eye, a life for his
Dissected, I'm on some shit computers want to bite
style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just instinct
I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and got up on big links

And if is the key, goddammit I'm the locksmith
Started a missionary way on my life, the mic I like bostage
I switch styles like a with controls that are remote
Engage in a page and words I elope

Walking down the aisles styles I freak the viles
Anti-Nazi when I rocks a Z-28
At any rate, brothers gain interest because I them microphones
couldn't house the shit so they had to rent to own

It's like that, from the go rapper
I wanna bone Jada Pinkett and that hoe
So on and you don't, now come on
Ah on and you don't

Sometime when I'm alone in my room I at the wall
And in the back of my I hear a wack-ass rhyme
And I catch Alz-rhymers, forget it, I get charged
Like a nigga in position with the stolen card the

Fuck the script, the rap scene I'm trying to edit
My mellows me, "Never", they be like, "Never's going to get it"
Never's too much, I'm much too, I do justice to
That's why cats be like, "Fuck you, you, fuck you!"

Other studs come through to see I am up to
They be on the dick of crew that be giving us sweet and buying us
Like Kareem I got the up, brothers look out because they look
Rest in peace to 'Heavena', washing tons of like Booker

Tee me, "You gotta get out of the crib, get into the world"
How you to come off with the style that's through?
It's like that, on, ha ha
It's like that, on

My foundation is in black of niggas that rock they hat cock
I'm real like a fight my rap, rappers I slap box
Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the black
Got tall with fat taste, the rat race is a rat race

Just you got Adidas with the fat laces
And the fro don't make you hip-hop, tou excuse for funk rap
Why is so many cranks trying to rhyme, yo funk that
The real starting to come back

The go is where I'm from and where I'm at,
I started eating cat I was 10
Before dinner I was getting big dog like Robinson
I see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind

But comes a time you gotta get off of that booty
The facts of life I didn't from watching Tootie
But living in the big
But I still like cause she got big titties

My style is steep, I rhymes on the incline
Splat plus fat nuts and lay up like a crib line
I'm slamming, on the one
I'm a bad man, you're just a son, come on