Luyện nghe bài hát Whoa

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

Grab mittens who have to spit
Actually flick cigarette ash at niggas
Harassment, ate of hash, delay quick, and then
Dash to Saint Nicholas pad to venison
Still in the business of smacking up little with
Raquets you play tennis with, hated for lifting and
Spraying that hotter wind in the shade of his maimed
Suitcase scented haze and filetted 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, momma and some food, beer, tag
Get a spanking, new Sears catalog
Send them nettled critics to the stop, dead and wrong
Get 'em higher the pitch of metal tea kettle songs

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


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

Yeah, the of a shit-talker
Pissed as Rick Ross's sip off his sixth lager
Known to sit and the sins off at the pitch alter
Hat never like the print off legit manga
Get it? a blue pill, make ya stick longer
Or a fist off your chin from his wrist launcher
Chick, chronic thrift shopper, thick the Knicks roster
Stormed off and came straight back like pigs'
Pen? Naw, probably written with some used
From out the rubbish bin at your local loony
Watching movies in a room of goons he rented
On the hunt for clues, more food, and floozy women
Bruising gimmicks with the broom he 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 and twisted doobies full of euphemisms
Stupid, it up, jot it quick, thought out
it right back like a vodka fifth
Spot him on a rocket swapping dollars in for pocket
Then lob a wad of at a copper on some Flocka shit

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


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