Luyện nghe bài hát Don't Front

Used to get, bent, now I represent to the
Pencil is full of bullets
I'm a Doberman Pinscher, Pitbull and a Rott'
Mixed with a toxic, the plot begins to
I begin to like vintage Pac, demented
Demonic sinister, ever since the the Doc me
The day he gave me that shot when I was just to quit
So to not see him with me would be a image
And I'm the of what a concrete chin is
no matter how many times you sock me in it
And me to the canvas, even the boxing critics
Know that if I get off to a rocky start, I'll have a Rocky finish
Eat me brocoli, spinach, cocky?
But I hope I offended you I told ya how dope I am at this
And put emphasis on the "dope," so names come up
In that conversation of who's the dopest, throw mine in it
And don't mind me, while I remind you of the
You won't find anywhere, where it fires and I unload my pen
'Til there's no rhymes in it, reload in no
Let insults fly even sixty seconds that go by, so you know I it
In I was so shy, timid
Two of jeans I'd alternate, bummy clothes, I 'member
Begging my mom for K-Mart MacGregors cause were new
St. Vincent de Paul, those Pony's were used, and no fitted
But them old days, adios, I did it
They I was a gimmick, now I'm the one that those guys mimic
Now you fuckers don't wanna go starting no
you know I'll win it, name a flow that's more authentic, and don't front

Don't front, you I got you open, kid
front, you know I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you know I got you open,
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Yo why you frontin', you I got you open, kid

Rest in piece to Big Proof, you was a beast, you lyrically me
Molded my flow off of you, your spirit's flowing me
I you, Doody, without you I feel so incomplete
I'm no king, no for rose petals to be thrown at my feet
I'm a thorn in your side, get into a throne
Better watch the fucking tone that you speak, feel I'm in the zone
I'm in a whole different league on my mothafuckin' own, just me
No opponents can compete, and I've never been known to
From beef, beep-beep, follow trends or wallow in
I'm still hungry as fuck, but can't say bon appetit
'Cause I don't what to eat, fucking microphone or the beat
Bitch, nobody's mind works like
It's nose to the grindstone time, homes, your blown
'Cause I rhyme like I'm still trying to get signed, up in the Ebony
With Denaun screaming "Who the passed you the mic?"
asked you like my shit from the get
I'd ask you to wipe my ass, bitch
You had you a nice run, now a hike
I ever meet my match, I'mma strike that bitch
'Cause on the mic I gotta the real rappers
The real rappers get their mothafuckin' cracking
Word to Buckshot and Dru-Ha, why the fuck
You don't like it? Suck a cock! Almost
Before I signed the Doc, I almost signed with Duck Down
'Cause Rawkus didn't no offers, so mothafuck Loud
They me around so what's up now?
Wow, how much of an asshole I sound like
Rubbing it and holding some now, but don't front

front, you know I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you know I got you open,
front, you know I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Don't front, you I got you open, kid
Yo why you frontin', you I got you open, kid

Late at night, used to catch a buzz, couldn't
Now I write the type of shit to you wipe
But diapers cause you might leave a streak
I'm on a streak windshield wipers couldn't
hard to decipher what cypher I might jump into tonight
'Cause I'm hyper or something, someone or something is lighting
This fire under me, it's breathing new life, it's like I died once
I guess some people live twice, and it's funny
My days of being broke was so ago, I lost my concept of money
But you dimes won't get a nickle from me
Oh shit, I'm on one knee
I'm having a of genius, Elizabeth I'm coming to you, honey
From boy to man, it's still make a whore like a thyroid gland
I'm in another category, man, don't put me up them pop stars
I never needed a pat on the to get at a boy, band
No Yes offense, precedents has been set that'll never get met
Middle finger pressed Moby's nose
Shouts to Obie, the curtains on my show
(But never forget that I'm the one you thought wouldn't it)
You can't it, oh
Got a whole generation of rappers coming up that are nutty with the
But convince me you've
An MC since me who's good with the fucking mincing of words
Without mincing words that'll you feel like I'm pinching a nerve
mentally disturbed, you might as well stick a knife in me and turn
It'll be like my skin being Indian
Hah, there isn't one, when will you learn?
Never been served if memory
I'd battle that 'til my own recollection these words

You I got you open kid, stop fronting
You I got you open, Word Life