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 than reverend Al or Liles
Some friends are vile, still be vials
Off of eleven mile, they you would
You better reconcile
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 for novelists
Peace to cats rock MAC knowledge knowledges
Hood astrologists, anesthesiologists, yo
El elefante, Bella
Keep a regimen to give 'em hell if PRhyme say

Yo, traumatic stress, I wear it as a family crest
I murder at its best, words that'll manifest causing cardiac
to Marrakesh, my slang Bangladesh
My Clarence X, I'm life after death, the last Levine X
Lettin' every other rapper know they better a vest
I'm pulling in two thousand for appearances
I wrote a about it, here it is, yo
The creature search a preacher teacher torch
Capture, rupture, rapture, reach her, the
He defeat ya, speak the ether, sneak then ya
Say no peace to meet ya, nobody get with me
Strong from Italy, chill, humility what I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a would bring the hostility though
You know how them boys Philly 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, sipping
it came time for the pictures in the yearbook
I was up in like an American werewolf
Years later, yo I'm an American verse evil like
Deerhoof, if I let the woof
They recognize me when I'm shopping up in Berdgdorf
They know I'm flier than the motherfucking airport
Therefore say I'm a sartorial gear whore, yeah

Uh, Ascots on the suits
You artists throwing on the radio like they made you you
I'm for artists on stage to throw tomatoes to
The way I act you think I'm banned from radio, Trae Tha Truth
I don't really care, nigga, I'm in
I gotta see [? ], I'm 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 'em spins, ha ha, I'on give 'em greens and count dividends
Ask around by them D-Town niggas that'll you
a concert full of dead fans and bloody merch
Smoking dope ille- that's the color perp
You wanna study first
Every verse lyrical but nutty
Every verb and every word is like a speeding
'Bout to chop your in half while it's on the way to heaven
Like Kid Cudi shirt, 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