Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

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

Jesus called, he said he's of the disses
I told him to quit bitching and isn't a fucking hotline
For a fucking shrink, I already got mine
And he's not fucking working, I think I'm wasting my damn
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 Tech shit or
But bowling, I went home for some damn Adventure Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself pink Xannies
And around the house in all-over print panties
My mom's gone, that fucking broad never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley them
crash that fucking airplane that that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
And stab Mars in his goddamn esophagus
And stop until the cops come in
I'm an achiever, so how about I start a team of leaders
And pick up Wonder to be the wide receiver
Green paper, teeth and pregnant golden retrievers
Is all I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don't them
But where the fat ones at? I got to feed them
It's some cooking books, the black kids wanted to read them
Snap back, green ch-ch-chia fucking
been a couple months, and Tina still ain't perm her fucking weave, damn

They say success is the best
So I beat DeShay up with the stack of I'm in
Oh, not again! Another critic writing
I'm any blogging faggot hipster with a Pitchfork
Still I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put this fucking in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put that fucking in my head
And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved a in your bitch
(What the fuck, man?) the fame and all the hype, G
I just want to if my father 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
Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my dead
Now the only that I had is splattered on cement
speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead