Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

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

Jesus called, he said sick 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
This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks cock nines
This ain't no V shit or Columbine
But after bowling, I went home for some damn Adventure
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink
And danced around the in all-over print panties
My mom's gone, 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 that faggot B.o.B is in
And Bruno Mars in his goddamn esophagus
And won't stop the cops come in
I'm an over achiever, so how I start a team of leaders
And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide
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 something to feed
It's some cooking books, the black kids never wanted to them
Snap back, ch-ch-chia fucking leaves
It's been a couple months, and still ain't perm her fucking weave, damn

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