Luyện nghe bài hát Warm It Up

You, you
Warm it up, it up
Warm it up, it up, warm it up
Warm it up, it up
it up, warm it up, warm it up

This that Young Sinatra shit, yeah that Young Sinatra shit
Shut the fuck up and whenever your Sinatra spit
Yeah your as fine as hell but she a Young Sinatra chick
Hey Bobby how can you tell? She on a Young dick
All these rappers as fuck, make the Young Sinatra sick
be the squad, that's that Young Sinatra clique
God damn, this the Young clique, God damn
Listen, yeah, I'm visualizing the realism in my life and
Stuck to me fatality yeah shit is my galaxy
I am who the be
I'd rather be at
Killers be to be me
Magnify the like bifocal
talk on the internet but in person they never vocal
Come to the hood and fuck you up if you prefer to be
I'm local, Noho, to Soho,
G's like I'm Frodo, you know ho I'm
Blessed Sunday, flyer than a runway
Little Bobby never second guess that he goin' it one day
One wake, or another my brother word to mother
They should give me a badge cuz I'm always

God damn I'm a man
You I get, I get it, I get it, I get it
turn out to spit it, rewind it and rip it
I can murder your whole album a 30 second snippet
the Mary Jane like I'm running a train with Peter Parker
Until I have sex in the city than Jessica Parker
The and deeper I go it get darker
They say the want the old me, the want the Sinatra back
The one that it, rip it up
Never gonna it up around an almanac
Yeah I'm all of that, fall back, like again
Basking these rappers so hard that won't remember again
When it comes to Hip Hop, I'm indigenous to this
This apparent, I'm barring like a parent
When the is at steak, I'm Astros
My god level lyricism surpass
I'm much more fast flows,
talk cash flows,
Great as the numbers at past

Fuck that rap shit this that trap (Bobby)
world is my contraption (Bobby)
I was born and in the trap son (Bobby)
shit get kidnapped son (Bobby)
I don't know why I rap son (ayy)
Money in the bank, I got some (ayy)
Couple sports yeah I bought some (ayy)
Thought you never flex get it done (ayy)
Y'all don't really know where I come
Talking shit, I'm a come for it (what's good)
Tell me what you really know about me now
I want I get it somehow

Fuck trap shit this that rap shit
Give me the hand John the Baptist
to whip it I hoove in the catcher
Greatest alive I'm Cassius
I put 'em all in they
They can't see me get past
I'm a bastard that mastered the flow and none of ready for this massacre though
Fuck Logic had absent though
Matter of fact it's not impossible but highly improbable
the police isn't robbable
But I'm to walk up into a station in blue face
Like the police!
Blue lives ain't a
Fuck whoever said this rap shit was never a
This a marathon
Murder you and carry on
that you really 'bout ya shit
You got your Jim on, "Liar liar"
I crucify ya
Number one I die
never retire
I am the
I am the God of shit
is how we do it
Yeah I started shit, yes I started this shit like

Fuck that rap shit this trap shit (Bobby)
world is my contraption (Bobby)
I was and raised in the trap son (Bobby)
Talk shit get son (Bobby)
I really know why I rap son (ayy)
Money in the bank, yeah I got (ayy)
Couple sports cars yeah I some (ayy)
Thought you never flex Bobby get it (ayy)
don't really know where I come from
Talking that shit, I'm a for it (what's good)
Tell me what you know about me right now
Everything I want I get it