Luyện nghe bài hát Gossip

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get 'em
Stop, analyzin'
You realize what 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 my shit is dyin'
It rains a lot in my city, my city's cryin'
Because my city's dyin' still I emerge from all of
I am a pion-eer, near Zion

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

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

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

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

Drag my through the mud
I come out clean away stones
I even blink
A gun is not a math
I even think

Just leave you dead the mink under my sink
believe in me, don't believe me
I've graduated hungry
And made it to

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

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

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

I'm not I'm alive