Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase racism, I'm as large as a bigot
is my escapism when I'm bubbly I just kick it
What I need from you is understanding I'm standing
On my own two, with 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 like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned from right to tight
When 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
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, goddammit I'm the
Started a missionary way on my life, the mic I like bostage
I styles like a channel with controls that are remote
in a page and with words I elope

Walking down the aisles with styles I the viles
Anti-Nazi I rocks like 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 the go rapper
I wanna bone Pinkett and that hoe Patra
So keep on and you don't, now on
Ah keep on and you

when I'm alone 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 in position with the stolen card the credit

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

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

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

My is in black block of niggas that rock they hat cock
I'm like a fight with my rap, rappers I slap box
Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the black
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 for funk rap
Why is there so many trying to rhyme, yo funk that
The real shit's 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 with a bump and grind

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

My is steep, I write 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, just a good son, come on