Luyện nghe bài hát Wishin II

Yo, the voice of the announcer off
Salvador, a connoisseur, a hot
Rachmaninoff, life 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 friends are vile, still be vials
Off of eleven mile, they you would
You prolly better
The dark side of to who rising in prominence
My crown's than Suleiman of The Ottomans
than Solomon, mobilizing the following
They try and give me the prize for novelists
Peace to cats that MAC knowledge knowledges
astrologists, illegal anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Bella
a regimen ready to give 'em hell if PRhyme say

Yo, post traumatic stress, I wear it as a family
I murder at its best, words that'll causing cardiac arrest
Budapest to Marrakesh, my slang
My Clarence X, I'm life after death, the last Levine X
Lettin' every other rapper know better wear a vest
I'm pulling in two hundred for appearances
I wrote a song about it, it is, yo
The creature feature search a preacher teacher
Capture, rupture, rapture, her, the preacher
He defeat ya, the ether, sneak then creep ya
Say no peace to meet ya, nobody get with me
suits from Italy, chill, humility what I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a nigga would the hostility though
You know how boys from Philly be
I'm like cyanide, creeping through the ear
And I got a foul mouth, tell 'em kids
When I was at school, I was who to steer of
Smoking a reefer in the bathroom, Smirnoff
it came time for the pictures in the yearbook
I was up in class like an werewolf
Years later, yo I'm an American hero evil like
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 motherfucking
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 for artists on stage to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you think I'm banned radio, like Trae Tha Truth
I don't really care, nigga, I'm 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, tie him to a swivel chair
I'on give 'em spins, ha ha, I'on give 'em greens and dividends
Ask by them D-Town niggas that'll leave you
With a concert full of dead fans and merch
dope that's ille- that's the color perp
You might wanna first
Every verse lyrical but first
Every verb and every word is like a bullet
'Bout to chop your body in 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 a sickness card, Iraq pistol pulling private, shh

Chris, I I got the Gully curse