Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase racism, I'm as large as a bigot
Groove is my escapism when I'm bubbly I just it
What I need you is understanding that I'm standing
On my own two, down with my own

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the too, I'm prone to snap off
I'm off that Cognac, I can't hold back like a masseuse
I get loose a screw turned from left right to tight
When time for some action, I get Red's, "Tonight's Da Night"

An eye for an eye, a for his wife
Dissected, I'm on some hi-tech shit computers to bite
style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just instinct
I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and got up on big links

And if knowledge is the key, goddammit I'm the
a missionary way on my life, the mic I rust like bostage
I switch styles like a with controls that are remote
Engage in a page and with words I

Walking the aisles with styles I freak the viles
Anti-Nazi when I rocks like a
At any rate, brothers gain interest because I them microphones
They couldn't house the so they had to rent to own

It's like that, coming the go rapper
I wanna bone Pinkett and that hoe Patra
So keep on and you don't, now on
Ah keep on and you

Sometime when I'm alone in my room I stare at the
And in the back of my mind I a wack-ass rhyme
And I catch Alz-rhymers, then forget it, I get
Like a in position with the stolen card the credit

Fuck flipping the script, the rap scene I'm trying to
My mellows me, "Never", they be like, "Never's going to get it"
Never's too much, I'm much too, I do to poetics
why cats be like, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you!"

Other come through to see what I am up to
They be on the dick of crew be giving us sweet and buying us fruit
Like Kareem I got the up, brothers look out because they look
in peace to 'Heavena', washing tons of rappers like Booker

Tee me, "You gotta get out of the crib, get into the world"
How you going to come off with the style through?
It's that, keep on, ha ha
like that, keep on

My foundation is in black block of niggas that they hat cock
I'm real like a fight with my rap, I slap box
Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the face
Got tall flavor with fat taste, the rat is a rat race

Just 'cause you got Adidas with the fat
And the fro don't make you hip-hop, tou excuse for funk rap
Why is there so many cranks trying to rhyme, yo funk
The real shit's starting to come

The go is where I'm and where I'm at, jack
I started cat when I was 10
Before dinner I was getting big dog Glen Robinson
I don't see nothing wrong a little bump and grind

But comes a time when you get off of that booty
The facts of life I didn't learn watching Tootie
But living in the big
But I still like cause she got big titties

My style is steep, I write rhymes on the
Splat guts fat nuts and lay up like a crib line
I'm slamming, on the one
I'm a bad man, you're just a son, come on