Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

I'm a fucking paradox, no I'm not
with a fucking triceratops, Reptar
Rapping as I'm mocking rock stars
synthetic wigs made of Anwar's dreadlocks
Bedrock, harder a motherfucking Flintstone
Making crack out of pussy nigga fishbones
This nigga Jasper trying to get
About 5'7" of his in my bedroom
Swallow the cinnamon, I'm a this sin and shit
While Syd is telling me that she's been getting with men
(Syd, the fuck up) Here's the number to my therapist
(Shit) him all your problems, he's fucking awesome with listening

Jesus called, he said he's of the disses
I told him to quit bitching and this isn't a hotline
For a fucking shrink, sheesh I got mine
And he's not fucking working, I I'm wasting my damn time
I'm three past six and going postal
the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock nines
This ain't no V shit or Columbine
But after bowling, I went for some damn Adventure Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink
And danced around the house in print panties
My mom's gone, fucking broad will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) her, Wolf Haley robbing them
I'll crash that fucking airplane that that faggot B.o.B is in
And Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus
And won't until the cops come in
I'm an over achiever, so how about I start a of leaders
And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide
Green paper, gold teeth and golden retrievers
Is all I want, fuck money, and bitches, don't need them
But where the fat ones at? I got something to feed
some cooking books, the black kids never wanted to read them
Snap back, ch-ch-chia fucking leaves
been a couple months, and Tina still ain't perm her fucking weave, damn

They say is the best revenge
So I beat DeShay up with the stack of I'm in
Oh, not again! Another critic report
I'm any blogging faggot hipster with a Pitchfork
Still I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put this knife in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put that fucking in my head
And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved a cock in bitch
(What the fuck, man?) Fuck the and all the hype, G
I just to know if my father would ever like me
But I don't give a fuck, so he's just like me
A motherfuckin',
(Fuck everything, man) what my conscience said
Then it hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
Now the only guidance I had is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit,