Luyện nghe bài hát WND

It's summer, and I'm chillin on my steps with my crew
Just the videos, just like all the little rappers do
We voice love to the heads we know that walk
Sunshine and smilin, Livin out of a glass
And I talk fast when it comes to
Hey baby I'm just a nut tryin to a squirrel
we could shut 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 fallowed you home you keep me
Would you feed me, you pet me
Would I fuck you your sleepy?"
She I'm creepy, and walked off
Too late, I already got off on the you even stopped
You knew I'd treat you an object
You I was a rapper, you knew it was the trend
For us rapper men to women infront of friends
Nonetheless; here comes kid Sean that I used to be cool with
Went to school with, now this kid is talkin shit
Gettin supper with his lips about
how I his bitch supposedly
the fuck is this supposed to be
Sean's got nuts, hes alone, I'm wit
Now tell me the fuck I'm supposed to do
I spew. Look (???) believers of cartoons
And I to know your bitch sleeps in until the afternoon
Honestly, my man, you bother me
Everybody bleeds, now go and ask your 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 Sean my ass, I ain't gonna lie, ain't gonna laugh
It wasnt fun, but fuck 'em, get my gun
Shit like that gets 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 on the door
Draggin and blood on the rug, and the wood floor
Couldn't believe my squad just stood and watched
Word to God, this boy 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
the bedroom, my passion aimed at the closet
Visualizing the top shelf, thats 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 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 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
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