Luyện nghe bài hát Wishin II

Yo, the of the announcer signing off
Salvador, a connoisseur, a hot
Rachmaninoff, livin' not by the law
And I'm a product of that God Allah
files, leaving 'em disemboweled, '87 style
They chance slimmer than Al or Kevin Liles
Some are vile, still be peddlin' vials
Off of eleven mile, they you would
You prolly better
The side of to who they rising in prominence
My crown's taller Suleiman of The Ottomans
Wiser than Solomon, mobilizing the
They try and give me the Nobel for novelists
Peace to cats that rock MAC knowledges
astrologists, illegal anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Bella
Keep a regimen to give 'em hell if PRhyme say

Yo, post traumatic stress, I wear it as a crest
I murder at its best, that'll manifest causing cardiac arrest
to Marrakesh, my slang Bangladesh
My gang's X, I'm life after death, the last Levine X
every other rapper know they better wear a vest
I'm pulling in two thousand for appearances
I wrote a song it, here it is, yo
The creature feature search a preacher torch
Capture, rupture, rapture, her, the preacher
He defeat ya, speak the ether, sneak creep ya
Say no peace to meet ya, nobody get with me
Strong suits from Italy, chill, humility I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a nigga would bring the hostility
You know how boys from Philly be
I'm like cyanide, creeping through the ear
And I got a foul mouth, tell 'em earmuffs
When I was at school, I was who to steer of
Smoking a in the bathroom, sipping Smirnoff
When it came time for the in the yearbook
I was up in class an American werewolf
later, yo I'm an American hero verse evil like
Deerhoof, if I let the woof
They don't recognize me I'm shopping up in Berdgdorf
They know I'm flier than the motherfucking airport
Therefore say I'm a sartorial gear whore, yeah

Uh, Ascots on the suits
You artists throwing bands on the radio they made you you
I'm looking for on stage to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you think I'm from radio, like Trae Tha Truth
I really care, nigga, I'm getting in
I see [? ], I'm saying N
I'on, I'on, give a fuck, any DJ anywhere
I'on, I'on give 'em as a triple dare, I'll tie him to a swivel
I'on give 'em spins, ha ha, I'on give 'em and count dividends
Ask around by D-Town niggas that'll leave you
With a concert of dead fans and bloody merch
Smoking dope that's ille- that's the perp
You wanna study first
Every verse lyrical but first
Every and every word is like a speeding bullet
'Bout to chop body in half while it's on the way to heaven
Kid Cudi shirt, shit could be a hit but it's gotta be money first
I rap with a sickness card, pistol pulling private, shh

Chris, I think I got the curse