Luyện nghe bài hát WND

It's summer, and I'm chillin on my steps with my little
Just like the videos, just like all the little do
We voice to the heads we know that 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 fuck a
Maybe we could the world up
Let some slug your life
Suddenly she hypes an eyebrow up,
"What do you mean?" and I start like
"If I was to you home would you keep me
Would you feed me, you pet me
I fuck you till your sleepy?"
She I'm creepy, and walked off
Too late, I already got off on the fact you even
You knew I'd treat you an object
You knew I was a rapper, you knew it was the
For us rapper men to disrespect women infront of
Nonetheless; here comes kid Sean that I used to be cool with
Went to school with, now kid is talkin fool shit
Gettin supper touchy with his about
how I stuck his supposedly
What the is this supposed to be
got nuts, hes alone, I'm wit crew
Now tell me what the I'm supposed to do
I spew. (???) makes believers of cartoons
And I happen to know your sleeps in until the afternoon
Honestly, my man, you bother 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 wasnt fun, but fuck 'em, get my gun
Shit that gets done in the world of rap
If they pushin on ya vibe, you just a if it slides
So I sprint up flights, Get into the feet whipe on the door
Draggin dirt and blood on the rug, and the wood
Couldn't believe my squad stood there and watched
Word to God, this boy tellin me to blame it on my
I'm amped, and shoot every motherfucker out there
I'm ill, and I'm gonna prove shit when I get back downstairs
Into the bedroom, my aimed at the closet
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, head festers in an open
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 like "What, What, Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What, What"

Writers Die
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Writers Die
Writers Die