Luyện nghe bài hát Unemployed Black Astronaut

It's the resurgence of the happy rappers
But now African medallions are placards
And we're alphabetized in the modernized
And my photos are wallet-size
My low
Why don't you me
I'm malleable putty
In a salad bowl with dressing
In urban field testing
Dressing
Accompanied by a bunny
Straight out of a burlesque
She'll the ring finger of the lead singer
And stir a bowl
Of the bitch's brew bee stingers
But Leimert's fresh
It's home of the black
Perplexed our stretch
To suggest that I'm
But the nest is low
means I'm commonplace
To the point we the country in wooden spaceships
On the cursing at the booking agents
I wield words and I pilfer the country the underground's who's who
But I feel like I've been sodomized with a billiard's cue

I am the first black
To the bare moon
From my air
Pound my beliefs into the shape
Then put them sound in a fireplace

the return of the unpopular dope rappers
Who retreat to in the sky
Climbing up ladders
And will sell you a silver disc in laughter
Because been brainwashed
Out of your ears leaks soap
Why you deify me
I'm Buckaroo
I don't know to do
I'm the guy
I crews like Krush Groove on DVD
And I got my start songs with CVE
But now like:
Villain who? Project what?
Persona non
No for the popsicle stick man
a wad of hot lava
Drip crayon on clipped glands
Won't squander top
Twists strands to enrich
But not a lot of offers
They grands to kitsch bands
I water
For the ADD D&D role
And we got
So we a commonwealth
And you hear me through random sightings and sharing
And you tell me that songwriting's like
No not
self-indulgence
Elfin culprits watch their egos in charcoal pits

Oh my
Sorry I left my acceptance
In the back of the car
And I rewrote the ending
Fluxed the motion screen
Made it so the black guy die by the opening scene

the decline of the cathartic writer
And the label's who couldn't a Lifer
I've outsold and my style's old and lame
I'll a lighter to the carpet fiber
Because I'm not a household
I'm a tax
I a deal with no exit clause
My label's Mrs. Santa Claus during menopause
So I'm on padded walls
Because I'm trying to make
But I keep hitting pop
I don't eat out
I thaw out chicken pot
But I to be on the list of the top five
Fresh guys