Luyện nghe bài hát WND

It's summer, and I'm chillin on my steps my little crew
Just like the videos, like all the little rappers do
We voice love to the heads we know walk past
and smilin, Livin out of a shot glass
And I talk when it comes to girls
Hey baby I'm just a nut tryin to a squirrel
Maybe we could the world up
Let some slug into life
Suddenly she hypes an up, like
"What do you mean?" and I start buggin
"If I was to you home would you keep me
you feed me, would you pet me
Would I fuck you till sleepy?"
She I'm creepy, and walked off
Too late, I already got off on the you even stopped
You I'd treat you like an object
You knew I was a rapper, you it was the trend
For us rapper men to women infront of friends
Nonetheless; here comes that kid that I used to be cool with
Went to with, now this kid is talkin fool shit
Gettin supper touchy his lips about
how I stuck his supposedly
What the fuck is supposed to be
got nuts, hes alone, I'm wit crew
Now me what the fuck I'm supposed to do
I spew. Look (???) makes of cartoons
And I happen to know your bitch sleeps in the afternoon
Honestly, my man, you don't me
Cause Everybody bleeds, now go and ask seed who his father be

I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"

Now kicked my ass, I ain't gonna lie, ain't gonna laugh
It fun, but fuck 'em, I'ma get my gun
Shit like that done in the world of rap
If they on ya vibe, you just a pussy if it slides
So I sprint up three flights, Get into the feet on the door
Draggin dirt and blood on the rug, and the floor
Couldn't believe my squad just stood and watched
to God, this boy tellin me to blame it on my cock
I'm amped, and I'ma shoot motherfucker out there
I'm ill, and I'm gonna prove that shit when I get back
Into the bedroom, my passion aimed at the
the top shelf, thats where the shoebox is
I push the top up, to fit my hand in
Reach the box in a frenzy, realizing that it's empty
Hand rests in the box, festers in an open stun
Then I remember, I don't own a gun

"What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm like "What, What, Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What, What"

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Writers Die