Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

I'm a fucking paradox, no I'm not
Threesomes with a triceratops, Reptar
as I'm mocking deaf rock stars
Wearing synthetic wigs made of dreadlocks
Bedrock, than a motherfucking Flintstone
Making crack out of pussy nigga fishbones
This nigga Jasper to get grown
5'7" of his bitches 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, he's fucking with listening

Jesus called, he said sick of the disses
I told him to quit bitching and this isn't a fucking
For a shrink, sheesh I already got mine
And he's not working, I think I'm wasting my damn time
I'm clocking three six and going postal
This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock
This ain't no V Tech or Columbine
But after bowling, I went home for some Adventure Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some 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 of Hayley Williams?) Fuck 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 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, gold 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 kids never wanted to read them
Snap back, green ch-ch-chia fucking
It's a couple months, and Tina still 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! critic writing report
I'm stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a
suicidal I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put fucking knife in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put fucking hole in my head
And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved a in your bitch
(What the fuck, man?) Fuck the and all the hype, G
I just want to 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 what my said
Then it hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
Now the only guidance I had is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder words, let me try this shit, dead