Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I like racism, I'm as large as a bigot
Groove is my when I'm bubbly I just kick it
What I from you is understanding that I'm standing
On my own two, down my own crew

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the bone too, I'm to snap off
When I'm off that Cognac, I can't back like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned from left to tight
it's 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 hi-tech shit computers want to bite
Your style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just
I'm the fam and ran scams, me and Murray 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 channel with that are remote
in a page and with words I elope

Walking down the aisles with I freak the viles
Anti-Nazi when I like a Z-28
At any rate, brothers interest because I loaned them microphones
They couldn't house the shit so had to rent to own

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

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

Fuck flipping the script, the rap scene I'm to edit
My mellows call me, "Never", be like, "Never's going to get it"
too much, I'm much too, I do justice to poetics
That's why 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 that be giving us sweet and buying us
Kareem I got the hook up, brothers look out because they look
Rest in peace to 'Heavena', washing tons of like Booker

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

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

'cause you got Adidas with the fat laces
And the fro make you hip-hop, tou sorry excuse for funk rap
Why is there so many trying to rhyme, yo funk that
The real shit's starting to come

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

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

My style is steep, I write on the incline
guts plus 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