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 Rakim God Allah
files, leaving 'em disemboweled, '87 style
They chance slimmer than reverend Al or Liles
Some are vile, still be peddlin' vials
Off of eleven mile, they wishin' you
You better reconcile
The dark side of to who they in prominence
My taller than Suleiman of The Ottomans
than Solomon, mobilizing the following
They try and me the Nobel prize for novelists
to cats that rock MAC knowledge knowledges
Hood astrologists, anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Fonte
Keep a regimen ready to give 'em hell if say

Yo, post traumatic stress, I wear it as a family
I murder at its best, words manifest causing cardiac arrest
Budapest to Marrakesh, my slang
My gang's Clarence X, I'm life death, the last Levine X
Lettin' every other rapper know better wear a vest
I'm pulling in two thousand for appearances
I wrote a song about it, it is, yo
The creature feature a preacher teacher torch
Capture, rupture, rapture, her, the preacher
He ya, speak the ether, sneak then creep ya
Say no peace to meet ya, can't get with me
Strong from Italy, chill, humility what I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a nigga would bring the though
You how them boys from Philly be
I'm like cyanide, creeping through the ear
And I got a mouth, tell 'em kids earmuffs
When I was at school, I was who to steer 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 American verse evil like
Deerhoof, if I let the woof
don't recognize me when I'm shopping up in Berdgdorf
They just know I'm flier than the motherfucking
Therefore they say I'm a sartorial gear whore,

Uh, on the tailor suits
You artists throwing bands on the radio they made you you
I'm looking for artists on 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 gotta see [? ], I'm N
I'on, I'on, I'on give a fuck, any DJ
I'on, I'on give 'em as a dare, I'll tie him to a swivel chair
I'on give 'em spins, ha ha, I'on give 'em greens and count
Ask around by them D-Town niggas leave you
With a concert full of fans and bloody merch
dope that's ille- that's the color perp
You might wanna first
Every lyrical but nutty first
Every verb and every word is 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 card, Iraq pistol pulling private, shh

Chris, I think I got the Gully