Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

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

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the bone too, I'm prone to off
When I'm off that Cognac, I can't hold back like a
I get loose like a screw turned from right to tight
When it's 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 want to
Your style is Pascal, mine is Basic and just
I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and got up on big links

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

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

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

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

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

Other come through to see what I am up to
They be on the dick of crew that be us sweet and buying us fruit
Like I got the hook up, brothers look out because they look
Rest in peace to 'Heavena', tons of rappers 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?
It's like that, on, ha ha
It's like that, on

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

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

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

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

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