Luyện nghe bài hát 1597

Hence forth, step within my
callouses upon my mind make me for my lines
out I it, squeezed the brain, it made some liquid
drained it in a cup and then I it
Atmosphere! The mic let me it
thoughts flight so fit the Slug in your 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 upon window pane
stained the a deep shade of residue
voices within the head make choices
Spawn, Slug a little buzz
and Atmosphere the scuds, 'cause here come the
blasted; so pass the kid a mic so we can this
image of the gifted-anxious, to flip the
it's the noun meltdown the outer-shell
now smell the burning fresh from the hell-bound
and come on here, this mind path, I'm half-
Atmospheric staff with the rhyme craft
comin to capture, after-laughter
while I'm hangin from this rafter, I have to rip 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 across it
and next a thunderhead
perhaps 10 miles high looms over the
the structure of the sky...
Why

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

Yea muthafucka! you know who you fuckin
you know kind of ass whooping comes with this
whole crew could get some of this,
your ass fuck kids is what the subject is
roughnecks live, for only a
then give
oblivion's, you've stepped in
your reps tooken, have been lookin
I'm sick of you crews when:
you tried take what's not your but couldn't
mine, your fake rhymes - spit them you shouldn't
what will it be another victory
yo who will it be it's Spawn that emcee
complete, a true champ - stamp on my essence
amped shootin presence, fattenin each fuckin
when its time, then it's to go
that's what I know, be 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...