Luyện nghe bài hát Wishin II

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

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

Uh, Ascots on the tailor
You artists throwing bands on the radio like made you you
I'm looking for on stage to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you think I'm banned from radio, like Tha Truth
I don't care, nigga, I'm getting in
I see [? ], I'm saying N
I'on, I'on, I'on 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, give 'em greens and count dividends
Ask by them D-Town niggas that'll leave you
a concert full of dead fans and bloody merch
Smoking dope that's ille- that's the color
You might wanna study
Every verse lyrical but nutty
verb and every word is like a speeding bullet
'Bout to chop your in half while it's on the way to heaven
Like Kid Cudi shirt, shit could be a hit but it's gotta be first
I rap with a card, Iraq pistol pulling private, shh

Chris, I I got the Gully curse