Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

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

Jesus called, he said sick of the disses
I told him to quit bitching and this isn't a hotline
For a shrink, sheesh I already got mine
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 cocks that nines
This no V Tech shit or Columbine
But after bowling, I went home for some damn Adventure
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself pink Xannies
And danced around the in all-over print panties
My mom's gone, that broad will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to Marvin
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Haley robbing them
I'll crash that fucking that that faggot nigga 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 a team of leaders
And up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver
Green paper, teeth and pregnant golden retrievers
Is all I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, don't need
But where the fat at? I got something to feed them
It's some cooking books, the black kids never 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 success is the best
So I beat DeShay up the stack of magazines I'm in
Oh, not again! Another writing report
I'm stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a
suicidal I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put this 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 in your bitch
(What the fuck, man?) the fame and all the hype, G
I just want to know if my father would ever me
But I don't a fuck, so he's probably just like me
A motherfuckin',
(Fuck everything, man) That's my conscience said
it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
Now the only guidance that I had is on cement
speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead