Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

I'm a walking paradox, no I'm not
Threesomes a fucking triceratops, Reptar
Rapping as I'm deaf rock stars
Wearing synthetic wigs made of Anwar's
Bedrock, harder than a Flintstone
Making crack rocks out of 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 been getting intimate 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 he's sick of the disses
I told him to bitching and this isn't a fucking hotline
For a fucking shrink, sheesh I already got
And he's not fucking working, I think I'm wasting my time
I'm clocking three past six and going
This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine that cock nines
This no V Tech shit or Columbine
But after bowling, I went home for some 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 wanna boogie to Marvin
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf Haley them
I'll crash that fucking airplane that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
And stab Bruno Mars in his goddamn
And won't stop until the come in
I'm an over achiever, so how about I a team of leaders
And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the receiver
paper, gold 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 never wanted to them
back, green ch-ch-chia fucking leaves
It's been a couple months, and Tina ain't perm her fucking weave, damn

say success 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
suicidal I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put fucking knife in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace put that fucking hole 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 probably like me
A motherfuckin',
(Fuck everything, man) That's my conscience said
Then it bunny off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
Now the guidance that I had is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder than words, let me try shit, dead