Luyện nghe bài hát 1597

Hence forth, within my psychoanalysis
callouses my mind make me strain for my lines
out I ripped it, squeezed the brain, it made liquid
it in a cup and then I sipped it
Atmosphere! The mic let me it
take flight so fit the Slug in your pipe and take a puff kid
fuck it! I heat it a tea pot - steam hot
upon the roof, shoot a marble with the verbal
take aim, here I came, I'm the
Back in '86, I'da tag my name your window pane
the mind: a deep shade of residue
voices the head make choices multiple
multiply Spawn, Slug a little
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
the noun meltdown from the outer-shell
now smell the burning fresh from the hell-bound
and come on down here, this mind path, I'm
mathematic Atmospheric with the rhyme craft
to capture, your after-laughter
while I'm from this rafter, I have to rip this rapture
'cause the cramps in my stomach,
when I tamper with amplifier, damn you die...

Why
The sky an eternally unfolding spectacle:
One moment puffs of cumulous clouds across 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 front to
the cover to the classified - I've pacified
my mind with my rhyme skills - I hills
and leap, foolish with a single bound
sending tingles down your spine, to swing a pound
this ax-handle triple-inch-spike
from the tip of my mic distrubuting fuckin
shots to your head, now knee-deep, you need sleep
as you trutch thru the sludge and the and the bird shit
we swarm with the bees and
and even if your dj was Jesus, you could fuck with these kids
I've swarmed the bees and diseases
and even if dj was Jesus, you could never fuck with these kids

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

Stress, Beyond, ANT, the

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