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 need you is understanding that I'm standing
On my own two down with my own
Toe cancer I'm bad to the too I'm prone to snap off
When I'm off that Cognac I can't hold like a massouse
I get loose like a screw turned from left right to
When time 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
Your style is Pascal, mine is and just instinct
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 like bostage
I switch styles a channel with controls that are remote
in a page, and with words I elope
Walking the aisles with styles I freak the viles
Anti-Nazi I rocks like a Z-28
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 I'm alone in my room I stare at the wall
And in the back of my I hear a wack-ass rhyme
And I Alz-rhymers, then forget it, I get charged
a nigga in position with the stolen card the credit
Fuck flipping the script, the rap scene I'm to edit
My call me "Never", they be like "Never's going to get it"
too much, I'm much too, I do justice to poetics
That's why be like "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"
Other studs through to see what I am up to
They be on the dick of crew that be us sweet and buying us fruit
Like Kareem I got the hook up, brothers look out because look
Rest in peace to ?Heavena?, washing 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 that's thourough?
It's like that, on, ha ha
like that, keep on

My foundation is in black block of niggas that they hat cock
I'm real like a with my rap, rappers I slapbox
Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the 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 make you hip-hop
You sorry excuse for rap
Why is there so many cranks trying to rhyme, yo funk
The real shit's starting to come
The Go is where I'm from and where I'm at,
I eating cat when I was 10
Before I was getting big dog like Glen Robinson
I don't see wrong with a little bump and grind
But comes a time when you gotta get off of that
The facts of life I didn't learn from watching
But living in the big city but I still Tootie cause she got big titties
My style is steep, I write on the incline
Splat guts plus fat nuts and lay up like a line
I'm slamming, on the one
I'm a bad man, you're just a good son, on