Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

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

Jesus called, he said he's of the disses
I told him to quit bitching and this isn't a hotline
For a fucking shrink, sheesh I already got
And he's not fucking working, I think I'm wasting my damn
I'm clocking three past six and going
This the revenge of the dicks, that's cocks that cock nines
This ain't no V shit or Columbine
But after bowling, I went for some damn Adventure Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some pink
And danced around the house in print panties
My mom's gone, fucking broad will 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 crash that fucking airplane that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
And stab Bruno Mars in his esophagus
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 to be the wide receiver
Green paper, gold teeth and pregnant golden
Is all I want, fuck money, and bitches, don't 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, ch-ch-chia fucking leaves
It's been a months, and Tina still ain't perm her fucking weave, damn

say success is the best revenge
So I beat DeShay up 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 shoved a cock in your
(What the fuck, man?) the fame and all the hype, G
I just want to know if my father would like me
But I don't a fuck, so he's probably just like me
A motherfuckin',
(Fuck everything, man) That's my conscience said
Then it bunny hopped off my shoulder, now my dead
Now the only that I had is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder words, let me try this shit, dead