Luyện nghe bài hát The Purge

[Intro: Barthe]
We are dying, we are
Are we die? Are we gonna die?
We are

1: Game]
Light a blunt, throw on Nas, collect my
Blow the candles out as I in the dark
Dumpin' ashes on the Time magazine
Tryna burn a hole between Israel and
All this world news, all these bodies
All kids dying, the talk of illuminati
As I'm murderin' ink, I get a call from Irv
Say "Keep spittin' cause when you do like a 12-gauge shotty
Got and them cannons loaded up
Got them and that lean in my cup
These can come up missin', I'm on a mission
You hear them gun shots, now mother listenin'
Feel that you can take their cause they ain't got a pot to piss in
Raise the Christian, kill you for kids as victims
Fuck the
You give a kid 30 cent and think you somethin'?
I feed a by myself nigga Compton comin'

[Hook: Stacy (Game)]
We are dying, we are
(Sometimes I purge)
We are
(Sometimes I purge)
We are dying, some times I purge
(Sometimes I wanna)
living on a purge
(Sometimes I wanna)

[Verse 2:
What if we ran through Beverley Hills, got 70
Ridin' Rodeo in the Chevy with pills
And pop one, load 12 in the eagle
And shot one, Donald Sterling in his Benz
I got one, beam on the back of his
Palm sweaty on the of the chrome
That's my
So we purge Sandusky, Zimmerman
Purge every mother fucker women in
Purge niggas kids, back to back in two vans
Me and my mercenaries, middle of South
Carryin' babies bodies, long as I got two
Long as I got two feet, millions and my crew
We purge for the families, they ain't in vein now
Crash my ass, niggas who shot that plane down
298 innocent severed
Flyin' on wings all the way to heaven
And so we

[Verse 3:
Imagine going to the stores without harrasing
Imagine Mike walkin', them same cops just passed 'em
I'm smokin' hash, and let me ash it before I in past tense
I hope his mama tears is like acid to your badges
2 in his brain, 4 in his fashion
Thinkin' 'bout his casket in this Phantom, swear I crashed it
That's why I'm headed to Ferguson with this luger
Cause I'm more like Nelson Mandela than Martin Luther
More like Ice T than Ice Cube, I'm a cop
Murder all the cops, the cops will probably stop killin'
On my prayin', wish my nigga Pac was livin'
But he fell victim to the Rampart Division,
Cops killed Biggie, cops beat up Rodney
We tore up the city nigga,
Or just stand there like J. Cole and at cops in the same spot till the case closed, purge

[Outro:
This song is dedicated, to my engineer Jus' wife, Carey Jean who passed away June 28th at 1.45 pm to stomach cancer, 2 days before his son Harlem's 11th birthday. Crazy how he mournin' his wife's death and I'm celebrating my son's life. I'll never understand death, shit. Sometimes it's a struggle to understand life, shit crazy. I'll never understand. Can't stop fightin' to though, but what we fightin' for when we eventually all die though, purge. Eventually we all victims of the purge. Us killers, what's keepin' us alive. It's a question nobody got the answer to. So PURGE!