Luyện nghe bài hát Gossip

I hate and I don't walk around lookin' for it, you know?
But yesterday it seemed to just on till it found me
You know like, gossip found me, why don't you try provin' it
How? You don't how to prove it?
Well, would you just do is
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,
Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop,

Stop, hatin' on a nigga that is a weak emotion, the lady of a
And you can get tipped ya waitin' on a nigga
Put a body bag and an on the nigga

I give my all the mic
But you could never see, if you sit behind the
You don't to pick me to win the title fight
But I'm gone that championship belt so tight

And if I'm wrong, is no right
And if I'm wrong, is no white
I'm to be polite
But you bitches in my hair like to fuckin' lice

And my flow is rare, these other rappers
These other rappers bark, some of 'em bite
But I'm much more bright, I the game sight
So you dim the light you just might, might wanna

it over
(Think it over)
Ooh, think it
(Think it baby, baby)

Get 'em
Stop, criticizin'
You should realize I am and start epitomizin'
Legitimate, I got the heart of the lion
I'm confident fuck 'em all pull out my dick and ride it

My flow sick, so sick, it's like my shit is
It rains a lot in my city, because my city's
Because my city's dyin' I emerge from all of that
I am a livin' pion-eer, Zion

God, not them
Steer my Robin through the streets of the boot and soowoop
And, then I leave in a boot, I leave a blood bath
Sorry a tub in the boot, now where the drugs at?

I'm twisted like the strings on a shoe, no nigga bug
I'm twisted like the on a boot
Now at New at

I your pop stole me like a bus pass
So in your possession, ah ah, I ask

Hey, haven't I good to you?
(Think it over)
me, haven't I been sweet to you?

Drag my through the mud
I out clean cast away stones
I even blink
A gun is not a problem
I won't even

Just leave you dead like the mink under my
Don't believe in me, believe me
I've graduated from
And made it to

My flow is like
it and eat it
But I'm need g's
If I'm bakin' the

You niggas beef?
I want a and uh, we be
Lost in Amsterdam or Jamaica we be
body nigga, just takin' it easy
All about my paper, 'bout my paper like

Why do rappers? Why do
Lie to fans, lie to rappers, lot of
Lie actin', cut the mothafuckin' cameras
Cut the check nigga fuck props
And it out to Mr.Hip Hop

I'm not I'm alive