Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase like racism, I'm as as a bigot
Groove is my escapism when I'm bubbly I kick it
What I need you is understanding that 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
When it's for some action, I get Red's, "Tonight's Da Night"

An eye for an eye, a life for his
Dissected, I'm on some hi-tech computers want to bite
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 is the key, goddammit I'm the locksmith
Started a missionary way on my life, the mic I rust like
I switch styles like a channel controls that are remote
Engage in a page and with words I

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

like that, coming from the go rapper
I wanna bone Pinkett and that hoe Patra
So on and you don't, now come on
Ah on and you don't

Sometime when I'm in my room I stare at the wall
And in the back of my mind I a wack-ass rhyme
And I catch Alz-rhymers, then forget it, I get
Like a nigga in position with the card the credit

Fuck the script, the rap scene I'm trying to edit
My mellows me, "Never", they be like, "Never's going 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!"

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

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

Just 'cause you got Adidas with the fat
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 shit's starting to come

The go is I'm from and where I'm at, jack
I started cat when I was 10
Before dinner I was getting big dog like Glen
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 learn from watching Tootie
But living in the big
But I still Tootie cause she got big titties

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