Luyện nghe bài hát Whoa

Nah, no, nah, nah, fuck
Niggas think cause you fucking "Chum"
And got all personal that niggas go back
to that old fucking 2010 shit talking 'bout
everything all
No, fuck nigga, I got you, fuck that

Grab mittens who have to blizzardous
Actually cigarette ash at bitch niggas
Harassment, ate nickels of hash, quick, and then
Dash to Saint Nicholas pad to venison
Still in the of smacking up little rappers with
Raquets you play tennis with, hated for bank and
Spraying that wind in the shade of his maimed innocence
Suitcase scented with haze and filetted
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, momma and food, beer, tag along
Get a spanking, new Sears catalog
them nettled critics to the bezzle stop, dead and wrong
Get 'em than the pitch of metal tea kettle songs

deep in a Rover cannon
Riding dirty through a canyon, niggas know that it's the


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

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

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


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