Luyện nghe bài hát You Should Know

Rock, rock, on
Rock, rock, on
I'm going to you the truth whether you like it or not
Can I it?
Yes
No more days those

Allow me to put some sense on you
Too much success, um, comes your doom
They told you niggas the the limit
Then they turn around and tell you that there's on the moon
You to fame and die, so they can say that you barely won
And they keep your masters, your kids bastards
Having to ask executives for their records
Sounding like Melle, jelly son?
in my eyes, you can tell I'm violent
I might go diving a fine female on the Maldives island
I vow to never fail my phonics until I'm iconic
And you can me in a cell, I got it
I go to jail bout eight go "oh well" then post bout nine-ish
I treat that bitch like it's a hotel, check in it check out it
Then tell my niggas, let the rest it
These rap niggas bugged out divas
They drugged out thugged out
I them at their stash place, heat them
Then tell them they better drag race the away from me
Or get their mug shot like
I catch him at the bus while he reading
This .45 will give him the same holler got
I the must haves and whatnots
Niggas that used to cut class to touch cash and shots

You should
(But you don't really nothing)
You should
(Talk a lot of shit, stop fronting)
You know
(So what you saying yo, keep playing y'all niggas burn)
You should
(Fuck the world)

or jail, clips inserted
A being born, same time a man is murdered
The and end
You on a block killer with your knife
Without a gun an option
Be cut out for the
Or they're gon play rock, paper, wit your life
I'm usually more at night
Cause murder's in the air more like a Nike
Whipping bike, the white American
a scripted life
A picket, different type
Whoever chicken rice, I'll spend the night
In the morning go to my wife
she try and sell my shit
Ninety nine percent sure that she gon try and my dick
Thirsty niggas is praying the hell I
The baddest bitches, the bitches you would've ever imagined
Would've had chlamydia getting dragged to
City after city niggas paying for the love of ass and titties

You should
(But you don't really nothing)
You know
(Talk a lot of shit, motherfucking fronting)
You should
(So what you saying yo, keep playing y'all will burn)
You know
(Fuck the world)

(Pick it up)
I don't know why y'all so regarded
You rhyme like you're borderline retarded
I show you what my father started
A rhyme on a god level, the godliest
follow artists who target their audience
But not me, I target the artist, follow the
a strap, pointing it at sinners
And when I tell them like Kobe to Shaq
You lazy and I'm of your jogging
at their feet till the dance start
I'm H.A.M. in the slaughterhouse
Fuck you and your charts
And crowd participation
I'm a land mine under your stage
Had his raining fan parts
And that shit crowd precipitation
I'm more than my own DJ and Pac's brother
I came out of my momma's with a box cutter
spitting image that mirrors the birth of Slim
None of these rappers can with me, I work with them

You know
(But you really want nothing)
You should
(Talk a lot of shit, stop fronting)
You know
(So what you saying yo, keep playing y'all niggas burn)
You should
(Fuck the world)

On the
You Detroit's own Dwele
Providing the
We
The Adrian Young
And on the wheels of
DJ

(I've seen, and I see it
I'm not the kind of person who here and say what you like)