Luyện nghe bài hát Warm It Up

You, you
Warm it up, it up
it up, warm it up, warm it up
Warm it up, it up
Warm it up, it up, warm it up

This that Young shit, yeah this that Young Sinatra shit
Shut the fuck up and listen whenever your Sinatra
Yeah your girl as fine as hell but she a Young Sinatra
Hey Bobby how can you tell? She on a Sinatra dick
All these wack as fuck, make the Young Sinatra sick
RattPack be the squad, that's that Young clique
God damn, the Young Sinatra clique, God damn
Listen, yeah, I'm visualizing the realism in my and actuality
Stuck to me yeah this shit is my galaxy
I am who the be
I'd be at academy
Killers be to be me
Magnify the shit bifocal
Motherfuckers talk on the but in person they never vocal
Come to the hood and fuck you up if you to be local
I'm local, Noho, to Soho,
Getting G's I'm Frodo, you know ho I'm
Blessed like Sunday, flyer a runway
Little Bobby never guess that he goin' make it one day
One wake, or another my brother word to mother
They should give me a badge cuz I'm always

God damn I'm a man
You I get, I get it, I get it, I get it
turn out to spit it, rewind it and rip it
I can your whole album with a 30 second snippet
Pass the Mary Jane like I'm running a train with Parker
I have more sex in the city than Jessica Parker
The deeper and deeper I go it get
They say the the old me, the want the Young Sinatra back
The one murder it, rip it up
Never gonna give it up an almanac
I'm all of that, fall back, like September again
Basking these so hard that they won't remember again
When it comes to Hip Hop, I'm indigenous to this
apparent, I'm barring down like a parent
When the is at steak, I'm Astros
My god lyricism surpass flows
I'm much more fast flows,
Money talk flows,
as the numbers at past shows

Fuck that rap shit this trap shit (Bobby)
world is my contraption (Bobby)
I was and raised in the trap son (Bobby)
shit get kidnapped son (Bobby)
I don't really why I rap son (ayy)
Money in the bank, I got some (ayy)
Couple sports cars yeah I some (ayy)
Thought you never flex Bobby get it (ayy)
Y'all don't really know where I from
Talking that shit, I'm a for it (what's good)
Tell me what you really about me right now
Everything I I get it somehow

Fuck that trap shit this that rap
Give me the hand John the Baptist
Ready to it I hoove in the catcher
Greatest like I'm Cassius
I put 'em all in they
They can't see me get past
I'm a bastard that mastered the flow and none of y'all ready for this massacre
what Logic had absent though
Matter of it's not impossible but highly improbable like
the police isn't robbable
But I'm liable to walk up into a in blue face
fuck the police!
Blue lives a race
Fuck whoever said this rap shit was never a
This shit a
Murder you and carry on
Claiming that you really 'bout ya
You got Jim Carrey on, "Liar liar"
I might ya
one 'til I die
Will never
I am the
I am the God of shit
is how we do it
Yeah I started this shit, yes I started this shit

Fuck that rap shit this trap shit (Bobby)
This world is my (Bobby)
I was born and raised in the son (Bobby)
shit get kidnapped son (Bobby)
I don't really why I rap son (ayy)
Money in the bank, I got some (ayy)
sports cars yeah I bought some (ayy)
Thought you never flex Bobby get it (ayy)
Y'all don't really know where I come
Talking shit, I'm a come for it (what's good)
Tell me what you really about me right now
Everything I I get it somehow