Luyện nghe bài hát 1597

Hence forth, within my psychoanalysis
callouses my mind make me strain 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
it! I heat it like a tea pot - steam hot
upon the roof, shoot a marble with the slingshot
take aim, here I came, I'm the
in '86, I'da tag my name upon your window pane
stained the mind: a shade of residue
voices the head make choices multiple
multiply Spawn, Slug a buzz
and Atmosphere the scuds, 'cause here come the
blasted; so the kid a mic so we can paint this
of the gifted-anxious, to flip the language
it's the noun meltdown from the
now smell the burning flesh fresh from the
and come on here, this mind path, I'm half-
mathematic Atmospheric staff the rhyme craft
to capture, your after-laughter
while I'm from this rafter, I have to rip this rapture
'cause the in my stomach, dismantle
when I with your amplifier, damn you die...

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

Cause I can read an emcee front to back
from the cover to the classified - I've
my mind with my rhyme skills - I hills
and leap, foolish with a single bound
sending tingles down spine, designed to swing a pound
this ax-handle protruding
from the tip of my mic distrubuting headshots
shots to your head, now you're knee-deep, you sleep
as you trutch the sludge and the slugs and the bird shit
we with the bees and diseases
and even if your dj was Jesus, you could fuck with these kids
swarmed with the bees and diseases
and if your 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 fuck kids is the subject is
roughnecks live, for a second
then they
oblivion's, what you've in
your reps tooken, should have lookin
I'm sick of you crews when:
you take what's not your but 'cha couldn't
take mine, your fake rhymes - them you shouldn't
what will it be another victory
yo who will it be now? it's Spawn that
complete, a true champ - stamp that on my
amped shootin presence, fattenin each sentence
when its time, 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 way before there's trouble...