Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase racism, I'm as large as a bigot
Groove is my escapism when I'm I just kick it
What I from 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 back like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned left right to tight
When time 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 shit want to bite
Your style is Pascal, mine is and just instinct
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 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 words I elope

down the aisles with styles I freak the viles
Anti-Nazi when I rocks like a
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 Pinkett and that hoe Patra
So on and you don't, now come on
Ah keep on and you

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

Fuck flipping the script, the rap scene I'm trying to
My mellows call me, "Never", 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, fuck you, you!"

studs come 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, brothers look out they look
Rest in to 'Heavena', washing 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 that, keep on, ha ha
like that, keep on

My foundation is in black block of niggas that rock they hat
I'm real like a fight 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

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

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

But comes a time when you gotta get off of 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 rhymes 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