Luyện nghe bài hát Underground Kings

I'm an
I'm, I'm an

Rumor has it I'm an king
All I give a about is money
And when I got it, I don't give a fuck it
It's outlandish, I take for granted God granted
My countertop granite, my is outstanding
While I'm standing of it
inside out as I pop Xanax
Watching on TV
In order to get to the TV I had to go through the proper
I rock the flannel, I rock the Air Max, Atmos and camo
They call me the owner, I put Lorenzo's on it
Then go and pick a chick up, it and friend zone her
Soon as I see her wake up, I be her raw
If she a B or an A cup, make her in a bra
Let's get it goin', got a dyke in the
I'm sure she enjoyin', I kill verses in for it
A is borin', for you to be informed
I'm a chore and my circle more than a European coin
Once the kill has begun, you
I'm the illest, the realest is Pimp C, and the is Bun
I'm definitely at gun rap, gun wrap
I put you on my recipe
I put you on the treadmill accessory less like run that, run
Detroit nigga, I destroy in general
I deploy to generally destroy niggas' regimes
So rumor has it I'm an king

From underground, a one, I don't get it
I still be in Civics, it's one of my bitcHes', I grew witH the
And I'm known for the stripping, unload I end it
Put ten in a tank, 10 mil' in my bank, I'm more real you tHink
Buy a some High Heels, a small purse and a sHank
Some wet naps, a little to insert tHrough a sHape
I'm in the gun wraps, I say tHem gun raps, I brougHt tHe back
And sHowin' gang
And I wrote tHis Had every H capped
You know tHem Hoovers 'bout it, 'bout it, I bullets
And narcotics, the watcHin', still poppin'
A gang member, pitcHin' rock, every car on the
No antennas, a body, myself and my own Hitta
I'm Top Dawg, you cat
Denied a million tHrougH a text, I'm a nigga
Heaven to the lowest of devils
Spit bar for the rebels
My wardrobe to startin' orange rags
Hats, even be witH my stunt double
My is either jail or oxy in my cotton
You lookin' and so it's gon' be for the knockin'
[?] 45, it's only 3
I'm second to none, I 'til I won, gun bigger than Bun
more tHan your lung, pop, pop, pop
Convert to a Hearse, get a new top dropped, yawk
music, jump out of Buicks
Nobody or I squeeze on it
I get a crown, I bleed on it

An king sippin' my lean
You know I double my profit because I triple my
You niggas stop with the topics and all this fussin' and
Ain't it clear to your optics I would go through a squadron?
Cause I'm as and vicious as killin' Christians and Christians
On the eve of a Christmas, say we got sick and
I'm tangled and twisted, this shit was terror-terrific
We killed the hubby and kiddies, the dog and the misses
And made the maid do the dishes, now she sleep the fishes
Now that rapper's dead, I assume my position
In the place, a king, on the throne is I'm sittin'
Yeah, the iron throne is mailed with the microphone
Hey, let the rats and the mice know Killer Mike is
Killer is iller than all the killas they know
My is good, I land a rock at my show
Before I go, rest in peace to Dilla
Slum lord with a mic cord in a village on a slum tour
Through every ghetto I carry the heavy
Just in case a shovel is when arguments are settled
Mama get rose
it, finito, no chatter, the matter settled
I got bitch, I got some head, she got stilettos
Lyrically I'm a bad mothafucka
[?] my technique, and my swag a tad butler,