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 liquid
drained it in a cup and then I it
Atmosphere! The mic let me it
thoughts take 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 with the verbal slingshot
aim, here I came, I'm the same
Back in '86, I'da tag my name upon window pane
stained the mind: a shade of residue
voices within the head make choices
multiply Spawn, Slug a little
and Atmosphere the scuds, 'cause here come the
blasted; so the kid a mic so we can paint this
image of the gifted-anxious, to the language
the noun meltdown from the outer-shell
now the burning flesh fresh from the hell-bound
and come on down here, mind path, I'm half-
mathematic Atmospheric staff with the craft
comin to capture, after-laughter
while I'm hangin from this rafter, I to rip this rapture
the cramps in my stomach, dismantle
when I with your amplifier, damn you die...

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

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

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

Stress, Beyond, ANT, the

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