Luyện nghe bài hát Hive

Promise Heron I'll put my fist up I get my dick sucked
Quick buck, a gold chain
With fucking flow that s-s-so belittles men
They tentatively tend to turn and go when I am
Stone cold, hardly with these niggas, nigga listen
The description doesn't fit, if not a synonym of menace, forget it
In turn, these and interns admitting the shit spit
It just burn like six furnaces it
It affixed them digits, and simultaneously
"Dispelling one-trick-pony myths, he?"
One adolescent, six-nigga energy
And down fax like a rich nigga centipede
Crack ceramic and slap a hand out of account
and shouting, thrashing, these niggas done let the Kraken out
Crack-a-lackin', snap, crackle, poppin' your ammo off
Hide your face, and throw flannels off, Sweatshirt, nigga
(Sweatshirt, nigga)

'87 roof top,
Whipping hoopties tryna raw chronic
(Brutus in booth, double scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, knocking niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't with no cop
(Rolling with flow swamp)
Catch me over top
(Rapping to coke rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With doors wide open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like nothing, cause it's nothing, bitch

From a that's recession-hit
With niggas could flex metal with, peddle to rake pennies in
testaments trying to stay Jekyll-ish
But most niggas Hyde, and Brenda stay pregnant
news: death's less important when the Lakers lose
There's lead in that baby food, heads try to it through
Fish-netted legs for them eyes she cater to
Ride dirty as the fucking sky that you to
So here I sit, eye in the
God spit it like it's truth serum in that and then
again, reappear bearded
On top of a lear, steering it into the ear again
of the backdrop music
For the crack rock user and the mascot,
than the skinned knee cap on the blacktop
Salivary glands, lighter fluid for the
Striking, wait, wait, who the you badder than?
Boy oh boy, I'm bad as burnt off the grill and shit
Spitter of the Little Nick, nimble,
Bitch pick litter, piff-blower, plus I pillage shit

'87 roof top,
hoopties tryna boost raw chronic
(Brutus in booth, double scoop, hock vomit up)
(Sub rocking, thud niggas teeth loose)
Bruh, I don't fuck no cop
(Rolling that flow swamp)
me over stove top
(Rapping to that rock)
(Passionless in old Jive
With them doors open)
(Dim the lights, focused)
Like it's nothing, cause nothing, bitch

Quit with all that tough talk, bruh, we you niggas ain't about shit
Come around, we gun 'em down, bodies piled,
Bulletproof outfits, concealed
I'm ready to kill, so it, all my weapons is real
Selling thizz, couldn't tell him the recipe is
Got 'em wishing that they never these weapons to kids, cheers
Send chills up spines of fat bitches
throwing out sandwiches, niggas get it how they
Live and I for money, other words, I'm getting money
Little boy told me when time to ride, they'll send them for me
nobody scaring me, niggas ain't prepared for heat
Tools hit pool sticks, the way I cue shit
If this was '88, I have signed to Ruthless
Nine-four, would've had them down Death Row
is when the best go, hate is what the rest do
Voice inside my head me, "Wet 'em if they test you"
So it's Raging season
That yomper big as Larry Johnson, leave momma seedless
Everybody hard until it's only God seeing
Kittens soft but in they songs be hard as Jeezy, I don't believe it
But to each his own, I ain't tripping long as I can the chrome
Heat your home like Southern California Gas, police
Tell 'em "Free Smalls," off Palm the heat drawn
Strapped up long as the chief for police
where the beasts are, north of the Beach
A couple streets past Baby J, niggas spraying Ks
Ruger with the pork face, for the court case
to save you niggas from the sorbet, Coldchain

Like it's nothing, cause it's nothing,