Luyện nghe bài hát Whoa

Nah, no, nah, nah, that
think cause you fucking made "Chum"
And got all personal that niggas won't go
to that old fucking 2010 shit about 'bout
fucking all
No, fuck nigga, I got you, fuck that

Grab mittens who have to blizzardous
flick cigarette ash at bitch niggas
Harassment, ate nickels of hash, quick, and then
Dash to Saint Nicholas pad to venison
Still in the business of smacking up little with
Raquets you play tennis with, for bank lifting and
Spraying hotter wind in the shade of his maimed innocence
Suitcase scented with haze and sentences
apathy, smashing the man cameras up
Tan khakis, an antagonist up
Vagabond, had it a Padawan
Rapping hot as fucking cattle brands wearing thongs
Grab a bong, and some food, beer, tag along
Get a nice spanking, new catalog
them nettled critics to the bezzle stop, dead and wrong
Get 'em higher than the pitch of metal tea kettle

Four in a Rover cannon
Riding dirty through a Saugus canyon, niggas know it's the


50 K for the check
But the Dollar Menu be on deck, nigga it's the motherfuckin'

Yeah, the misadventures of a
Pissed as Rick Ross's fifth sip off his sixth
Known to sit and wash the sins off at the pitch
Hat never backwards the print off legit manga
Get it? Like a blue pill, ya stick longer
Or a swift fist off chin from his wrist launcher
Chick, chronic thrift shopper, thick like the Knicks
Stormed off and straight back like pigs' posture
Naw, probably written with some used syringes
From out the rubbish bin at your local loony
movies in a room full of goons he rented
On the hunt for clues, more food, and some women
Bruising gimmicks with the he usually use for Quidditch
Gooey writtens, 'em to a ditch, chewed and booty scented
Too pretentious, do pretend like he lose with spitting
Steaming tubes of poop and twisted doobies of euphemisms
Stupid, it up, jot it quick, thought out
it right back like a vodka fifth
Spot him on a swapping dollars in for pocket lint
Then lob a wad of chicken at a copper on Flocka shit

nigga try to disrespect
Get a fucking thunder to his neck, shout out to Nak, it's the


Looking bummy, posted on the block, looking I ain't make
A quarter million off of socks, nigga, it's the