Luyện nghe bài hát Who Want It?

(Big out to The Alchemist)

I'm the most cold blooded, gold flooded, out, star studded
Fly like the ghost of who died the coke done it
Clean that Maz' that I got in my garage
When that ride up (Ahhhh), you gon' know it's not a Mazda
I zone better than you cause I with my hoes
But my trigger got it's own regiment
I'm so sick like I got my own medicine, I do my own edits
C'mon, you if your crib ain't got no echo, let go you a star
I let go and like petrol into your car
Put your stunner shades on fix your eyes to at me
I'm standin but still but my chain is doin a y-twist
Why the fuck they so much on those - why wouldn't we?
Plus I'm of niggas talking bout what I shouldn't be (yeah)
Put the tools to 'em put the magnum in
Then, sing the blues to 'em let them cruise through 'em (blao)
Believe you me I be squeezing at ease, you weak niggas bleed
breathe, you might re-zoot it
That's the resume nigga, it seem roomy?
Don't it long? Don't my name got a ring to it?
Like a ring tone padded after King
Adam Eve, battle rappin, tabernacle song
That's cause I'm a natural, striking like I'm matches
I could west, south, or bite the Apple
Psychopathic, when he on the track it's like it's
The city on his back just his jacket (Woooo!)
The that we pack got extensions attachments
Put away pencils and pens if you rappin
You ain't gotta write rhymes you could 'em all in your head
read 'em off the floor when you dead (yeah)
Most I am in a category with none
me to who? If it ain't the notorious one I'm buryin you
Cause squeezing ain't shit, my be speakin to players like Steven A. Smith
And believe me they spit, you want
I put up them number season that's the reason they sick (keep goin)
I don't pop a lot of bologna, the lot I shot up your homie
I rocked a lot of Prada, lot of
We only shoes once and give 'em to my niggas (uh huh)
While you still cleanin and stickin your sock in 'em (yeah)
Im a hot nigga, them glock triggers givin you riga'
Broadway and I'm all day a city slicker
You bigger me I still get you, I'm so shist'
I ghost write if I wanted I let Diddy dis you (keep goin)
Come through like the six is a tanker van
Have them killers show up to the like the anchorman
And they'll give you the without the down payment
Up comin rapper was slain but he is now (uh huh)
Etch out you, blow your out you
Next album no to know the rest bout you
you in the air killed just hoverin' there chillin (What you doin?)
In the Hilton in fuckin with Paris Hilton (Damn!)
Your little bo at the podium reading
I'm blowed by a hoe in a Via Dubai
To prove my worth I did my dirt, the you can do to the ghost is kill my curse
The you can do to me now is steel my work
You still can't touch it I'm dope, just my verse (keep goin)
My artistic process is all twisted
The raw shit I thought of from awe disses (yeah)
The object of narcissism the sharp
I guessin 'em all guess that I'm autistic
Preach! Nigga my speech is reachless, untouchable by any livin
Any way I'll you (yeah), anywhere I'll beet you (yeah)
Bed time to or anywhere I feature (uh huh)
Niggas ain't to hit nickel up to do songs (Naw)
Last one done it still pissed cause I on him (hahahaha)
a writer's burst over cause I looped on him
Oh (seven), Royce Da 5'9" nigga who it?

Nobody!
(Royce Da 5'9"... The Bar Exam... Pay attention)