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 bubbly I just 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 bone too, I'm to snap off
When I'm off Cognac, I can't hold back like a masseuse
I get loose like a turned from left right to tight
it's 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 want to
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 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 with that are remote
in a page and with words I elope

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

It's like that, coming from the go
I wanna Jada 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, forget it, I get charged
Like a nigga in position with the stolen card the

Fuck the script, the rap scene I'm trying to edit
My mellows call me, "Never", they be like, "Never's to get it"
too much, I'm much too, I do justice 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 that be giving us sweet and buying us fruit
Like 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 get out of the crib, get into the world"
How you going to come off with the style that's
like that, keep on, ha ha
It's that, keep on

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

Just 'cause you got Adidas 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 shit's starting to back

The go is where I'm and where I'm at, jack
I started eating cat I was 10
Before dinner I was getting big dog 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 didn't learn from Tootie
But in the big city
But I still Tootie cause she got big titties

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