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 synthetic wigs made of Anwar's
Bedrock, harder a motherfucking Flintstone
Making crack rocks out of pussy nigga
This Jasper trying to get grown
5'7" of his bitches in my bedroom
Swallow the cinnamon, I'm a this sin and shit
While Syd is me that she's been getting intimate with men
(Syd, shut the fuck up) Here's the to my therapist
(Shit) him all your problems, he's fucking awesome with listening

Jesus called, he said he's sick of the
I him to quit 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 six and going postal
This the revenge of the dicks, that's cocks that cock nines
This ain't no V Tech shit or
But after bowling, I went home for damn Adventure Time
(What'd you do?) I myself some pink Xannies
And danced around the in all-over print panties
My mom's gone, that fucking will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna to some Marvin
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) her, Wolf Haley robbing them
I'll that fucking airplane that 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 start a of leaders
And pick up Stevie Wonder to be the wide
Green paper, gold and pregnant golden retrievers
Is all I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, need them
But the fat ones at? I got something to feed them
It's cooking books, the black kids never wanted 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 revenge
So I DeShay up with the stack of magazines I'm in
Oh, not again! Another critic writing
I'm stabbing any blogging hipster with a Pitchfork
suicidal I am
I'm Wolf, put this fucking knife in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put that fucking hole in my
And I'm Wolf, that was me who a cock in your bitch
(What the fuck, man?) Fuck the and all the hype, G
I want to know if my father would ever like me
But I don't give a fuck, so he's 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 guidance that I had is on cement
speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead