Luyện nghe bài hát Perfume

1]
Trap in my belly, free my nigga Really
Elijah that smelly, ménage is in the telly
bitch name Shelly, dick under her belly
I met that bitch at a fashion show, she was Margiela
I was Quasey Casey rocking all that Versace
Might be in there sailing, that Beijing
Ten in my pocket, for no reason I got it
Fuck around and hit Sin City, that bitch to pop it
What's up with you and Purrp? I ain't all of that gossip
He brought the into my crew, you gotta ask Rocky about it
All I know is A$AP riding in them
40. cal, we spray that, when AK you take nap
Oh, Lord, that Hood - oh, Lord, that Trap Lord
Why call you Trap Lord? Cause you a rap lord to my casket
I ain't bowing to no time, Pope on my gold shine
My dirty niggas wanna nine, but we talk rhyme
I tell 'em up

All I know is that Lord, that Hood Pope
All I know is that Trap Lord, but a rap Lord to my casket
All I know is fast Porsche smoking that good smoke
Model bitch who from Brazil, she it on her culo
Riding 'round the feeling like P. Diddy
Glock 9 in my silk shirt, nigga, no Pac and no
Riding the city feeling like P.Diddy
Glock 9 in my shirt, nigga, no Pac and no Biggie

2]
No reply when you call Lord, mama cry her throat soar
Liechtenstein when I drunk [?] you was dying in war hall
Body left near the staircase of the whole mob
Don't mean no fucking thing when I pull up in Goyard
Shooked up from that toe star, ask questions like
Like can you feel your fucking legs? I bet that nigga cannot
Persian stack coke hard, sniff white 'till her nose soft
I fucked bitch with no rubber, cause that bitch be so raw
Puff-puff the semi huff, nigga really gonna pop
when you see me duck, niggas really want
Y'all can't see the God trap, truly Lord
And I click like Donkey Kong I hit this long
Better run you see the mob, you be seeing God
Hear the drum my niggas march, you gon' see Allah
You the son of a nigga, you daddy a broad
You a bitch, little bitch nigga, probably bras