Luyện nghe bài hát Zeze (Freestyle)

Ahh,
Joyner!

Yo, saying, "What a great battle"
But you about to see a fucking snake
Boy, you just a pony a pink saddle
I'm truly sorry that you stuck inside of Drake's
When are you gon' (Huh)
are you gon' level up?
When are you gon' another foot? (Huh)
When are you gon' show us that you one? (When)
And everything that you accomplished in years about to take me just a couple months
you think I'm bluffing neither
I thought you were tougher, (Damn)
How you almost signed to Bieber?
You look like a beaver (Haha)
Ten in the game but yo' ass still sittin' on the fucking bleachers
Boy, you just another diva (Just diva)
Heard yo' grandmama kicked you out the house
"Tory, we fucking need you"
Why yo' daddy up and you? (Why)
I guess this is how they treat you
And you my puppet, you my Skeeter
This ain't what you wanted, they waiting for it
I'm Joyner Lucas, the fuck you niggas take me for
(What the fuck)
I up in a Demon but I kill Satan for it
If you want attention Tory you gon' to pay me for it
All these hoes love me but you sucker niggas me for it
You up on me, catch a shot at ya Mercedes door
The bullets fly, you recline a La-Z-Boy
All you do is cry, you a child, you my boy
You call yourself Tory The Notorious Big (Yeah)
turning in his grave when he hear yo' shit
Don't ever think you could ever come compare yo' shit
girls and kids only ones who feel yo' shit
I the plaques on my way to a Grammy
All your records soft and sweet, niggas that you candy
Your really convinced you that you think you can scare me
And you got identity issues, think you a tranny, really? (Damn)
tell us why you always gotta lie in your rhymes (Why)
I know up with lies can get tiring sometimes
You not a G and deep down you hide sometimes
at the sunshine and start crying sometimes
Your real name is Daystar, you dying to shine
And when you sing you kinda sound like you sometimes
You make the type of tracks had me feelin' silent inside
Nobody you serious, put all the violence aside
Okay, let's talk about plagiarism that you hate to mention (Yeah)
Or talk the hate you giving to the greats you dissing
(Let's about it)
And that writer who wrote yo' shit still ain't get paid on that "Don't Die"
You should probably go pay the (Yeah, man)
And how the fuck you talk Kendrick when he a legend (Huh)
Then go bite the nigga style on record right at the ending
On 4AM Flex 2 and 50 seconds
exactly like the Art of Peer Pressure, go take a listen
You inspired by the niggas you name
fire in the rain, no umbrella to shelter you and no rain drops
When I you on Flex, I gave props
But then we found out you stole Don Q shit from the stop
You thought you were fly the plane drop
Ugly tryna stunt in a tank top
It's no wonder why they used to yo' ass with a slingshot
You my son, this the last I'll give you a Ring Pop
Sit down, you on
And get up until you see me
And don't even think about that TV
No more video games, no more phone, no 3D
No more radio or boombox for your ass CD
Matter of fact, give me your back and everything I bought you
You a disgrace to this family and I taught you
I hate to say it son but you make me
I should'a knew you weren't shit when you came out with a dick
no wonder why you pay for pussy
Tory you you slick
All you do is lounge the house all day like a lazy prick
Shit, highly disappointed in you son, I some answers
How come you couldn't in my steps and be a dancer?
Or maybe write a like me or be somebody's grandpa
Instead you be a fucking rapper with some hair plugs
No more rapping, me your pen and paper
No more to the people on how you the biggest gangster
Now up and get your juicy out the refrigerator
You going to bed at o'clock and not a minute later
No, I wanna hear it
No, let this be a
Close your mouth and go into your room I suggested
I'm a get real Joe Jackson in a
Matter of fact, give me your toys, I'm adding that to the
I just did a show and got it lit ya nigga
And my freestyles killing your nigga
Couldn't name a bitch I get ya little nigga
You a rebound, even Scottie Pippen know
You ain't Toronto, put that on the Bible
I put six hollows in Ferragamo
Nigga, you from Brampton, go the bottle
Bitch I'm from New England, me and Brady in the El
Now come get on my level, I'm as metal
I the ghetto, I brought the shovel
I bury all of you little ninja
You Donatello, you soft as
You must be gone off Amaretto
It's hard to tell you soft as pillows
You fucking midget, I call you
I throw you out a fucking car
I step all over your Margielas, you caught
Yo' heart spinning, my illing
I'm Bob Dylan, I'm John Lennon, I'm
bars running no off limits
Don't business, don't talk, listen
I'm off this so you fuck you fuck! Nigga

What,
out my face nigga
Ayy look
We gonna get one in,
Let's not, let's not do this back and forth shit no
I, I think we know up, you know
Ha ha ha,