Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase like racism, I'm as large as a
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 Cognac, I can't hold back like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned left right to tight
When it's time for 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 is Pascal, mine is Basic and just instinct
I'm with the fam and ran scams, me and Murray got up on big

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 controls that are remote
Engage in a page and with words I

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

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

Sometime when I'm alone in my room I 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 with the stolen the credit

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

Other studs come through to see 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 of rappers like Booker

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

My is in black block of niggas that rock 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 black
Got tall flavor with fat taste, the rat 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 funk
The real starting to come back

The go is where I'm and where 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 comes a time when you gotta get off of booty
The facts of life I learn from watching Tootie
But in the big city
But I still like cause she got big titties

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