Luyện nghe bài hát WND

It's summer, and I'm chillin on my steps with my little
Just like the videos, just like all the rappers do
We voice love to the heads we know walk past
Sunshine and smilin, Livin out of a glass
And I fast when it comes to girls
Hey baby I'm just a nut tryin to a squirrel
Maybe we could shut the up
Let some slug your life
she hypes an eyebrow up, like
"What do you mean?" and I buggin like
"If I was to fallowed you home would you me
Would you me, would you pet me
Would I fuck you your sleepy?"
She I'm creepy, and walked off
Too late, I already got off on the you even stopped
You knew I'd you like an object
You knew I was a rapper, you knew it was the
For us rapper men to disrespect women infront of
Nonetheless; here comes that kid Sean that I used to be with
to school with, now this kid is talkin fool shit
Gettin supper touchy with his lips
how I stuck his bitch
What the fuck is this to be
got nuts, hes alone, I'm wit crew
Now me what the fuck I'm supposed to do
I spew. Look (???) makes believers of
And I happen to know your sleeps in until the afternoon
Honestly, my man, you don't me
Cause Everybody bleeds, now go and ask your seed who his be

I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"

Now Sean kicked my ass, I ain't lie, ain't gonna laugh
It wasnt fun, but fuck 'em, get my gun
Shit like that gets done in the of rap
If they pushin on ya vibe, you a pussy if it slides
So I sprint up flights, Get into the feet whipe on the door
Draggin and blood on the rug, and the wood floor
Couldn't believe my just stood there and watched
Word to God, this boy me to blame it on my cock
I'm amped, and I'ma shoot motherfucker out there
I'm ill, and I'm gonna prove that shit when I get downstairs
the bedroom, my passion aimed at the closet
Visualizing the top shelf, thats the shoebox is
I the top up, enough to fit my hand in
Reach into the box in a frenzy, realizing it's empty
Hand rests in the box, head in an open stun
I remember, I don't even own a gun

"What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What Kid What"
I'm "What, What" (I'm like) "What Kid What"
I'm "What, What, What, What"

Writers Die
Writers Die
Writers Die
Writers Die