Luyện nghe bài hát 1597

Hence forth, step within my
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 your pipe and take a kid
fuck it! I heat it like a tea pot - hot
the roof, shoot a marble with the verbal slingshot
take aim, here I came, I'm the
Back in '86, I'da tag my name upon your pane
stained the mind: a deep shade of
voices within the head make choices
Spawn, Slug a little buzz
and the scuds, 'cause here come the judge
so pass the kid a mic so we can paint this
image of the gifted-anxious, to the language
it's the noun meltdown the outer-shell
now smell the burning flesh fresh the hell-bound
and come on down here, mind path, I'm half-
mathematic Atmospheric staff with the craft
to capture, your after-laughter
while I'm hangin from this rafter, I have to rip this
'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 a billowing thunderhead
10 miles high looms over the horizon
probing the of the sky...
Why

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

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

Stress, Beyond, ANT, the

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