Luyện nghe bài hát Older Gods

Aiyyo, I roll like a bat out of
acapell's fly spittin' out of my grill
Before I hit the sky with colors
Juicy as a Sunkist, broads double dutch this

They it in they wrist, pales berry blazes
Straighten the crumbs left on the clothes in my lady hair
Plus yours the look gold God, the old bald technique
Got these vestibules designer niggaz in whips

Jumpin' out they seats, eighteen, Bronzeman II
We like Hamill on ice
We in your hood we circle, hats down low in the Range
lanes, change my tire, peel out

Real loud on the yo, I shitted on your hood kid
I shitted on your hood, got to your burner too
I'm lookin' real good, draped out, shinin' like a fresh fifty piece
Your girlfriend,
Oh shit, you my man's niece, the pocket twenty

Bombs made of clay, Sexcapades take
We fucked in forty-eight might walk up in your studio
Time slap your engineer, it's fluid to that style
me the matches now

Aiyyo rainbow Roley on the wrist, now this
Niggaz this, eight and a half, Bally banana twist
E shakes, on lye, feedin' the seed's plate
out, old dirty eights to rob gates

Major wake up, the kid telltales, a nigga head wake up
Beats break, the nigga would take off his
status, gladdest
The rich rock cabbage and vans grands

nigga mad savage, stationary Hall of Justice
Niggaz clumped out
Just came home, now they out
Money be longer than triple

'Til the sun burn out, that's my word, move it with the out
Fidel way of thinkin', with the Mac bent Ac-10
Most of my team, Five Percent check what the live
Rollin Guess vests pedestrians yo
Holdin' my nuts, thousand dollar lesbians

Yo, the God put me on and had to rock this
Maintain Three-Sixty Lord live
It only takes a lesson a day, just to analyze
One in the respectable mind

Yo, the Older God put me on and had to rock
Three-Sixty Lord live prosperous
It only takes a a day, just to analyze life
One time in the respectable

Let the spark, soon as his pit bull barks
Tire scars from skid marks leaves from jams in school
Witness, forget his original
Even in programs there's no escapement

Gunned down, we in town, hit king seven crowns
Spent rounds catch him while he rhyme in the Lounge
Wounded, in the eighty three summer heat
Up in three-oh-nine park, rhymin' off the drummer's

I stalk the city demonstratin' mic wrecks
All lookin' stank, I ain't wit a full deck
And as they stare, I know they scared
They saw the coming of Wu, the neon in Square

name, assassin, killa bee
Mill to the grain, posses the Wu, trilogy
to spot those that bite camouflage and blend
Those that got styles, got identical twins

Don't stretch the small thing, copycats are
skills, they master the art of mimicry
But I go for line on the whole page
Your unspotted on the mic is old age