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 I just kick it
What I from you is understanding that I'm standing
On my own two, with my own crew

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the too, I'm prone to snap off
When I'm off that Cognac, I hold back like a masseuse
I get loose like a turned from left right to tight
When it's for some action, I get Red's, "Tonight's Da Night"

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

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

down the aisles with styles I freak the viles
Anti-Nazi when I rocks like a
At any rate, brothers gain interest because I loaned microphones
They couldn't house the shit so had to rent to own

It's like that, coming from the go
I bone Jada Pinkett and that hoe Patra
So keep on and you don't, now on
Ah keep on and you

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

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

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

Tee told me, "You gotta get out of the crib, get 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 block of niggas that rock they hat
I'm real a fight with my rap, rappers I slap box
Back I got my rap, now get glock out the black face
Got flavor with fat taste, the rat race is a rat race

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

The go is I'm from and where I'm at, jack
I started cat when I was 10
Before I was getting big dog like Glen Robinson
I don't see nothing wrong with a little bump and

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

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