Luyện nghe bài hát Wishin II

Yo, the voice of the announcer off
Salvador, a connoisseur, a hot
Rachmaninoff, livin' not by the law
And I'm a product of that Rakim God
Forensic files, leaving 'em disemboweled, '87
They chance slimmer than reverend Al or Liles
Some friends are vile, be peddlin' vials
Off of eleven mile, wishin' you would
You better reconcile
The dark of to who they rising in prominence
My taller than Suleiman of The Ottomans
Wiser than Solomon, mobilizing the
They try and give me the Nobel for novelists
Peace to cats rock MAC knowledge knowledges
astrologists, illegal anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Fonte
a regimen ready to give 'em hell if PRhyme say

Yo, traumatic stress, I wear it as a family crest
I murder at its best, that'll manifest causing cardiac arrest
Budapest to Marrakesh, my slang
My gang's X, I'm life after death, the last Levine X
Lettin' every other rapper know they better a vest
I'm in two hundred thousand for appearances
I wrote a song about it, it is, yo
The creature feature search a preacher teacher
Capture, rupture, rapture, reach her, the
He defeat ya, speak the ether, then creep ya
Say no to meet ya, can't nobody get with me
Strong from Italy, chill, humility what I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a nigga would the hostility though
You how them 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 clear 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 bear
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 gear whore, yeah

Uh, Ascots on the suits
You artists bands on the radio like they made you you
I'm for artists on stage to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you I'm banned from radio, like Trae Tha Truth
I really care, nigga, I'm getting in
I see [? ], I'm saying 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
give 'em spins, ha ha, I'on give 'em greens and count dividends
Ask by them D-Town niggas that'll leave you
With a concert full of dead and bloody merch
Smoking dope that's that's the color perp
You might study first
Every lyrical but nutty first
Every verb and word is like a speeding bullet
'Bout to chop your body in half 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 sickness card, Iraq pulling private, shh

Chris, I I got the Gully curse