Luyện nghe bài hát WND

It's summer, and I'm on my steps with my little crew
Just like the videos, like all the little rappers do
We voice love to the we know that walk past
Sunshine and smilin, Livin out of a glass
And I talk fast when it comes to
Hey I'm just a nut tryin to fuck a squirrel
Maybe we could shut the up
Let some slug into your
Suddenly she an eyebrow up, like
"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
Would I fuck you your sleepy?"
She said I'm creepy, and off
Too late, I already got off on the fact you stopped
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 used to be with
Went to school with, now kid is talkin fool shit
Gettin supper with his lips about
how I his bitch supposedly
What the fuck is supposed to be
got nuts, hes alone, I'm wit crew
Now tell me what the fuck I'm to do
I spew. Look (???) makes believers of
And I happen to know your bitch 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 ain't gonna lie, ain't gonna
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 whipe on the door
Draggin and blood on the rug, and the wood floor
Couldn't believe my squad just stood there and
Word to God, this boy me to blame it on my cock
I'm amped, and I'ma shoot every out there
I'm ill, and I'm gonna that shit when I get back downstairs
the bedroom, my passion aimed at the closet
Visualizing the top shelf, where the shoebox is
I push the top up, to fit my hand in
Reach into the box in a frenzy, realizing that it's
Hand rests in the box, head festers in an open
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 "What, What, What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What, What"

Writers Die
Never Die
Writers Die
Never Die