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

Yo, post stress, I wear it as a family crest
I murder at its best, words manifest causing cardiac arrest
Budapest to Marrakesh, my Bangladesh
My Clarence X, I'm life after death, the last Levine X
Lettin' other rapper know they better wear a vest
I'm pulling in two hundred thousand for
I a song about it, here it is, yo
The creature feature a preacher teacher torch
Capture, rupture, rapture, reach her, the
He defeat ya, speak the ether, sneak creep ya
Say no peace to meet ya, can't nobody get me
Strong suits from Italy, chill, humility I'm all about, ability, yo
I wish a nigga bring the hostility though
You know how them boys Philly be
I'm cyanide, creeping through the ear ducts
And I got a foul mouth, 'em kids earmuffs
I was at school, I was who to steer clear of
Smoking a in the bathroom, sipping Smirnoff
When it came for the pictures in the yearbook
I was up in class an American werewolf
Years later, yo I'm an American hero evil like
Deerhoof, if I let the woof
They recognize me when I'm shopping up in Berdgdorf
They just know I'm flier the motherfucking airport
they say I'm a sartorial gear whore, yeah

Uh, Ascots on the suits
You artists 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 really care, nigga, I'm 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 triple dare, I'll tie him to a swivel
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 dead fans and bloody
Smoking dope ille- that's the color perp
You might study first
Every verse lyrical but first
Every verb and every word is like a bullet
'Bout to chop your body in half while it's on the way to
Like Kid Cudi shirt, shit be a hit but it's gotta be money first
I rap with a sickness card, Iraq pistol private, shh

Chris, I think I got the curse