Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

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

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

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