Luyện nghe bài hát The Pain

Damn...
I do this for fun man
my job, dawg
All you see is the videos and the rings and the
And the bracelet, and
And you know, grills and chains
Another chain on top of
And another ring on another finger, and grill
And I switch grills and then I change chains
And that's all you see, but you

'Ey
I up early in the morning
Hit the button for hours
Get up, hop into a two hundred thousand dollar
my teeth when I'm out it
Remote the Audi
Kiss my boy, kiss my girl, my wife, and then I'm outtie

Grind time a struggle to a hussle
"Aw man"s to "God damn"s
a clam to a mussel
I say you had it better
But damn, did I
I have much
But if you tried to it, I'll bust ya
It feels like I died
'Cause every time I drive my past flash
in front of my eyes
'Cause I'm not one of guys
That remember shit,
Can't even go home and drive in this whip
everybody want him gone
But you got me up
If a gon' be on YouTube saying'
I ain't my bowin' homes [?]

So I'm gonna goin' strong
And let you niggas go out of
As long as my is breathin'
I'm doing this for a lot of
I do it for my and they kids' kids
And when I'm dead come to my grave
To tell me what kids did, yeah
tell 'em my style and how long I has hated on about it
And how it took minutes to make a song about it
Even though I was young I was actin' grown it
Took some years, but they left me 'lone about it
Old folks cheering' me on 'cause they I got it
They see get in the game and fold like origami

But the only foldin' I'm doin' is when I'm at poppin'
Got 'em fainting' like Michael Jackson, straight hos
Then I go home, homie, there's no robbin'
Gated
You gotta know the code,
up to the crib
Lamborghini look so
And six sittin' on 24" choppas
folks in my neighborhood think I'm the Dalai Lama
'Specially when I come like roo sticky dima [?]

But everything gotta turn bad
It's the weekly drama,
You know, small shit,
girls saying' they my baby mama
But this music has made me
I now understand
niggas is mad,
They wanna me
Barack Obama
But I graduated, School of Hard Knocks, cum laude

On the of the stage
Like I am really 'bout to this crowd up
That me prouder, makes me a man
If you ain't doin' what I'm'
You a fan
Damn, get on knees please
And praise God that he sent you
That can just you niggas these things

Killa, R&B King, T.P.
The Music
A.K.A. the Lord of the Three