Luyện nghe bài hát Wishin II

Yo, the voice of the signing off
Salvador, a connoisseur, a hot
Rachmaninoff, life not by the law
And I'm a product of Rakim God Allah
Forensic files, 'em disemboweled, '87 style
They chance slimmer reverend Al or Kevin Liles
Some friends are vile, still be peddlin'
Off of eleven mile, wishin' you would
You prolly better
The dark side of to who they in prominence
My crown's taller than Suleiman of The
Wiser than Solomon, the following
They try and give me the Nobel prize for
Peace to cats that rock MAC knowledge
astrologists, illegal anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Fonte
Keep a ready 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
Budapest to Marrakesh, my Bangladesh
My gang's Clarence X, I'm life death, the last Levine X
Lettin' every other know they better wear a vest
I'm pulling in two thousand for appearances
I wrote a about it, here it is, yo
The creature feature search a teacher torch
Capture, rupture, rapture, her, the preacher
He defeat ya, speak the ether, sneak creep ya
Say no peace to meet ya, can't nobody get me
suits from Italy, chill, humility what I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a would bring the hostility though
You know how them from Philly be
I'm cyanide, creeping through the ear ducts
And I got a mouth, tell 'em kids earmuffs
I was at school, I was who to steer clear of
Smoking a in the bathroom, sipping Smirnoff
it came time for the pictures in the yearbook
I was up in class like an American
Years later, yo I'm an hero verse evil like
Deerhoof, if I let the bear
They recognize me when I'm shopping up in Berdgdorf
They just I'm flier than the motherfucking airport
Therefore they say I'm a sartorial gear whore,

Uh, Ascots on the suits
You throwing bands on the radio like they made you you
I'm looking for artists on to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you I'm banned from radio, like Trae Tha Truth
I don't care, nigga, I'm getting in
I gotta see [? ], I'm N
I'on, I'on, I'on give a fuck, any DJ
I'on, I'on give 'em as a triple dare, I'll tie him to a chair
I'on give 'em spins, ha ha, I'on give 'em greens and dividends
Ask around by them D-Town 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
verse lyrical but nutty first
Every verb and word is like a speeding bullet
'Bout to chop your in half while it's on the way to heaven
Like Kid 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 I got the Gully curse