Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

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

Jesus called, he said he's sick of the
I told him to quit bitching and this a fucking hotline
For a shrink, sheesh I already got mine
And not fucking working, I think I'm wasting my damn time
I'm clocking past six and going postal
This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks cock nines
This ain't no V Tech or Columbine
But after bowling, I went home for some damn Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped some pink Xannies
And danced around the house in all-over panties
My mom's gone, fucking broad will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to some
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Haley robbing them
I'll crash that fucking airplane that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
And stab Bruno in his goddamn esophagus
And won't stop until the come in
I'm an over achiever, so how about I start a team of
And up Stevie Wonder to be the wide receiver
Green paper, gold teeth and golden retrievers
Is all I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, need them
But where the fat ones at? I got something to them
It's cooking books, the black kids never wanted to read them
Snap back, green 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 up with the stack of magazines I'm in
Oh, not again! Another writing report
I'm stabbing any blogging faggot with a Pitchfork
suicidal 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 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 probably like me
A motherfuckin',
(Fuck everything, man) That's what my conscience
Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience
Now the only guidance that I had is splattered on
speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead