Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

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

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the too, I'm prone to snap off
When I'm off that Cognac, I can't hold back like a
I get loose like a screw turned from left right to
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 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
Started a missionary way on my life, the mic I rust bostage
I switch styles like a channel controls that are remote
Engage in a and with words I elope

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

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

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

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

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

Tee me, "You gotta get out of the crib, get into the world"
How you to come off with the style that's through?
It's that, keep on, ha ha
It's like that, 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
I got my rap, now get your glock out the black 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 make you hip-hop, tou sorry excuse for rap
Why is there so many cranks trying to rhyme, yo that
The real shit's starting to come

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

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

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