Luyện nghe bài hát Yonkers

I'm a fucking paradox, no I'm not
with a fucking triceratops, Reptar
Rapping as I'm mocking deaf rock
Wearing synthetic wigs of Anwar's dreadlocks
Bedrock, harder than a Flintstone
Making rocks out of pussy nigga fishbones
nigga Jasper trying to get grown
About 5'7" of his in my bedroom
Swallow the cinnamon, I'm a this sin and shit
While Syd is telling me she's been getting intimate with men
(Syd, shut the fuck up) the number to my therapist
(Shit) Tell him all your problems, he's fucking awesome with

Jesus called, he said sick of the disses
I him to quit bitching and this isn't a fucking hotline
For a shrink, sheesh I already got mine
And he's not fucking working, I I'm wasting my damn time
I'm three past six and going postal
This the revenge of the dicks, nine cocks that cock nines
This ain't no V shit or Columbine
But after bowling, I went home for some damn Time
(What'd you do?) I slipped myself some Xannies
And danced around the house in print panties
My mom's gone, that broad will never understand me
I'm not gay, I just wanna boogie to Marvin
(What you think of Hayley Williams?) Fuck her, Wolf robbing them
crash that fucking airplane that that faggot nigga B.o.B is in
And stab Bruno in his goddamn esophagus
And won't stop until the cops in
I'm an achiever, so how about I start a team of leaders
And pick up Stevie to be the wide receiver
Green paper, teeth and pregnant golden retrievers
Is all I want, fuck money, diamonds and bitches, need them
But where the fat at? I got something to feed them
It's some cooking books, the black kids never wanted to read
Snap back, green ch-ch-chia leaves
It's been a couple months, and Tina still ain't her fucking weave, damn

say success is the best revenge
So I beat DeShay up with the of magazines I'm in
Oh, not again! Another critic report
I'm stabbing any blogging hipster with a Pitchfork
Still I am
I'm Wolf, Tyler put this fucking in my hand
I'm Wolf, Ace gon' put fucking hole in my head
And I'm Wolf, that was me who shoved a cock in your
(What the fuck, man?) the fame and all the hype, G
I just want to know if my father would like me
But I don't a fuck, so he's probably just like me
A motherfuckin',
(Fuck everything, man) what my conscience said
Then it hopped off my shoulder, now my conscience dead
Now the only guidance I had is splattered on cement
Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit,