Luyện nghe bài hát Sum Shit I Wrote

Marks I erase like racism, I'm as large as a
Groove is my escapism I'm bubbly I just kick it
What I need from you is understanding I'm standing
On my own two, down my own crew

Toe cancer, I'm bad to the bone too, I'm prone to off
When I'm off Cognac, I can't hold back like a masseuse
I get loose like a screw turned from right to tight
When it's 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 is Pascal, mine is Basic and just instinct
I'm the fam and ran scams, me and Murray 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 controls are remote
Engage in a page and words I elope

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

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

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

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

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

My foundation is in block of niggas that rock they hat cock
I'm real like a fight with my rap, I slap box
Back I got my rap, now get your glock out the face
Got tall flavor with fat taste, the rat 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 cranks trying to rhyme, yo that
The real shit's to come back

The go is where I'm from and I'm at, jack
I started eating cat I was 10
Before I was getting big dog like Glen Robinson
I don't see wrong with a little bump and grind

But comes a time when you get off of that booty
The facts of life I didn't learn watching 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 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