Luyện nghe bài hát 1597

Hence forth, within my psychoanalysis
callouses upon my make me strain for my lines
out I ripped it, squeezed the brain, it made some
it in a cup and then I sipped it
Atmosphere! The mic let me it
thoughts take flight so fit the Slug in pipe and take a puff kid
fuck it! I heat it like a tea pot - hot
upon the roof, a marble with the verbal slingshot
take aim, I came, I'm the same
Back in '86, I'da tag my name your window pane
stained the mind: a deep shade of
voices within the make choices multiple
multiply Spawn, Slug a buzz
and Atmosphere the scuds, 'cause here the judge
blasted; so pass the kid a mic so we can paint
image of the gifted-anxious, to the language
it's the noun meltdown from the
now the burning flesh fresh from the hell-bound
and come on down here, this path, I'm half-
mathematic Atmospheric with the rhyme craft
comin to capture, after-laughter
while I'm hangin from this rafter, I to rip this rapture
'cause the in my stomach, dismantle
I tamper with your amplifier, damn you die...

Why
The sky presents an eternally unfolding
One moment puffs of cumulous clouds scatter it
and next a thunderhead
perhaps 10 miles looms over the horizon
probing the of the sky...
Why

Cause I can read an emcee from front to
from the cover to the classified - pacified
my with my rhyme skills - I climb hills
and leap, twitch with a single bound
sending tingles your spine, designed to swing a pound
this ax-handle triple-inch-spike
from the tip of my mic distrubuting fuckin
shots to your head, now you're knee-deep, you need
as you trutch thru the sludge and the slugs and the shit
we with the bees and diseases
and even if your dj was Jesus, you could never fuck these kids
swarmed with the bees and diseases
and even if dj was Jesus, you could never fuck with these kids

Yea muthafucka! you who you fuckin with
you know what kind of ass whooping comes with
your crew could get some of this,
your wack ass fuck is what the subject is
live, for only a second
then they
oblivion's, what stepped in
your tooken, should have been lookin
I'm sick of you bitch-ass crews
you tried what's not your but 'cha couldn't
take mine, your fake rhymes - spit them you
what will it be another victory
yo who will it be now? it's Spawn emcee
complete, a true champ - stamp on my essence
amped presence, fattenin each fuckin sentence
when its time, then time to go
that's what I know, be rippin mics at every we flow
but who's got my back

Stress, Beyond, ANT, the

so you best be on your way there's trouble...