Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase like racism, I'm as as a bigot
Groove is my when I'm bubbly I just kick it
What I need from you is understanding that I'm
On my own two, down my own crew

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the bone too, I'm to snap off
When I'm off that Cognac, I can't back like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned left right to tight
it's 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 hi-tech shit computers want to
Your style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just
I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and Murray got up on big

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

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

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

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 in position with the stolen card the credit

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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