Luyện nghe bài hát WND

It's summer, and I'm chillin on my steps with my crew
like the videos, just like all the little rappers do
We voice to the heads we know that walk past
Sunshine and smilin, Livin out of a shot
And I talk when it comes to girls
Hey baby I'm just a nut tryin to a squirrel
we could shut the world up
Let some slug into life
Suddenly she an eyebrow up, like
"What do you mean?" and I start buggin
"If I was to fallowed you would you keep me
Would you feed me, you pet me
Would I fuck you till sleepy?"
She said I'm creepy, and off
Too late, I already got off on the fact you even
You knew I'd treat you like an
You I was a rapper, you knew it was the trend
For us rapper men to disrespect women infront of
Nonetheless; here comes that kid Sean that I to be cool with
Went to with, now this kid is talkin fool shit
Gettin supper with his lips about
how I stuck his supposedly
What the fuck is supposed to be
Sean's got nuts, hes alone, I'm wit
Now me what the fuck I'm supposed to do
I spew. (???) makes believers of cartoons
And I happen to know bitch sleeps in until the afternoon
Honestly, my man, you don't me
Cause Everybody bleeds, now go and ask your seed who his 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 Sean kicked my ass, I gonna lie, ain't gonna laugh
It wasnt fun, but 'em, I'ma get my gun
Shit like that done in the world of rap
If they pushin on ya vibe, you just a if it slides
So I sprint up three flights, Get into the feet whipe on the
Draggin dirt and blood on the rug, and the wood
believe my squad just stood there and watched
Word to God, this boy tellin me to blame it on my
I'm amped, and I'ma shoot every motherfucker out
I'm ill, and I'm gonna prove shit when I get back downstairs
Into the bedroom, my passion aimed at the
Visualizing the top shelf, thats the shoebox is
I push the top up, enough to fit my in
Reach the box in a frenzy, realizing that it's empty
Hand rests in the box, festers in an open stun
I remember, I don't even 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 like "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
Writers Die
Never Die