Luyện nghe bài hát The Sitcom Really Really Isn't All That Real

Hey Mom, hey Dad, I'm
Look, Hunny, it's our mistake!
Come give a hug, but be careful, I'm on the rag!
Mmm, cherry for everyone!
Haha, how was your

For starters it sucked ass my boss is a dickhead
God handed out and gave me the shit-end
Ridden with hoes, no kiddin' like one's
Got two on my neck, three blister and on my dick-end
Clock tickin', sickin' and stickin' these rhymes of a beat
When really listen
White trash, No-Cash
Tried to sell weed but thugs slapped me and took my

*Son, with the shitface?
Golly fuck, Dad, heroin prices are the roof
and my just won't cut it anymore. I'm jonesin' for a hit!
Try whorin' body, like Mom does!*

The local outcast with a on my inner thigh
to outrun these bitches who all want me to die
Waitin' for some rappers to die so I can get a chance
Without a song about bitches dance
I hope all the clubs
'Cause so many trapped in one building
burn like great white shows
And all our is to pose a threat
Try to change what rap hopes and I forget

The sitcom ain't real, it's about
Money's for not high school dropouts
My life never resembled an of Full House
You stay stuck in this you'll scream 'til your lungs come out
The ain't real, what it's about
Money's for gangstas not school dropouts
I get so frustrated the vein in my pops out
I'm dead than dead people buried and forgotten about

*Dad? I to borrow $300
$300? for, son?
Well, I got Jenny up again!
Son, did I ever tell you your mother and the wire-hanger?*

Nope, none of that
America me like Yasur Arafat
You fuckers that
I feel obligated to tell you in the past
Oh yes, I
Now shit is different, now I'm
Most of these so called MCs is and outdated
New dawn, and a red one
The only rapper to me is a dead one

*Golly, Dad, is it O.K. to hit a woman?
Son, in my day, it right to hit a woman.
But now that equal rights have established, you wallop that cunt!
And kick her while down!*

Nah, I'm just around, I know I sound bitter
I up in a town where white kids say "What up, nigga?"
When they all wanna be, ironic to me that that's what I get called
Just I wanna jump up on a beat
So fuck all you assholes, past present and
Hope a thug fires at me, misses and shoots ya
I wouldn't lie, man, I tell the to ya
There's no tellin' what this fuckin' do to ya

The sitcom ain't real, it's about
Money's for gangstas not high dropouts
My life never resembled an of Full House
You stay stuck in this town you'll scream your lungs come out
The ain't real, what it's about
for gangstas not high school dropouts
I get so frustrated the vein in my forehead out
I'm dead than dead people buried and forgotten about

of you assholes all think you gangstas
99% of you's are fake, ain't ya's?
That's why I hate
Verbal Heaven's gate a fuckin' hole in my head, insert a metal plate
I feel empty, plastic
When this shit drops get my fuckin' ass kicked
But that's O.K. with me, I'd die for the
'Cause my only purpose in life is to with ya'lls
I hate your fuckin' guts 'cause my record got bumped
You double-platinum, I went double-hubcap
A rugrat, you'd be pissed too a freshly dubbed track
What the fuck you do?

*Gee Dad, does it ever get any easier?
Son, if there's one thing I've learned this:
We're all gonna live and die in this shitty, shitty (He's right)

And the funny is, he is right. I bid you farewell
Shit Town, America, folks. Get home safe,
ladies and gentlemen. your girlfriends tight,
and not to notice their mouths taste like your best friends dick.
in the end you're just a small town piece of shit. Smile!
Until time folks, it's Weerd Science. Fuck off.