Luyện nghe bài hát The Prodigal Sun Returns

P-p-p pass the boota, pass the
Cause I get, p-p-p pass the boota
P-p-p the boota, cause I wanna get off
All the fuckers that are tryin to dis the kid
You can get shot, but first I'm get hot
When it comes to rhyms I got a new
Cause you got about as much flavor as a rice patty
Babe, ahh quit your day job
It the way ahh
But on the mic I'm god
And workin for your moneys what I x'ed hoe
Cause I wont sell my soul for some wax in cheap gold
Par 4 motherfucker whatcha do
1 wood 7 and I'm on the green at 2
With 1 putt I lyin a in the hole
I drive the putt for dough
So it up hoe
I get a lot of looks
I ain't stealin music, my man
I ain't to fuckin
playin dummy with your pride
And you cant me shit about a funny vibe
And all that jive your preachin, borin
God saved my soul, you save the fuckin rain
And I'll you in hell
The prodigal son kid rock I well
(only time tell)
Well been coast from the midway
grass and sniffin lines
And at first glance you guess no
I make my own homemade wine
Moonshine, red wine, stir it up, it up
Roll it up, it up, toke down, pass around
Cut it up, light it up, it up, rock it up
a pipe and I just might smoke it
Object it, sellect it, clean it, it
Suck it in, tie it up, stick it and it
All night, that's right, pop it it
Set it on your tongue and then trip til you