Luyện nghe bài hát 54

Kill that cat, me kill that cat
If it's girl, I'm lookin' at
Then me kill that cat

I hunt cunts like these, with disease
In they yearly matin' spots, a million MC's
They used to go to shows, drink get high
Then you click the mic the whole audience rhyme

In '92 I let the Cage outta
college radio demonstrate the fist, fuck the love ballads
Summon demons in my ad libs, fun
good shit, go feed off dead Christians

Red light in the Lincoln, drinkin' Drencrom
The corpse in my eye can the thinkin'
While I lay behind a of flesh, engulfed by the homeless
If I escape, I might my whole state

Plus when Cage ripped in half on the
Screamin', "That's my running down the street"
The undead, in gun lead
a fat bitch out her box with one hypo' jab

Inject tiger serum, I can't hear 'em,
Alex the fuckin' loaded thirty-oh-two, 'cause

This is for the whores, and the kicked stores
And fifty-four in my pocket on tour
is for the kid that said, "Oh, you dead"
And the fifty-four stitches that he in his head

This is for the clowns, I beat no hands
And the two O-Z's, down to grams
With two to the face, I'm a basket
With fifty-four seconds to space

I love a bull mastiff ground up, make a up
With Jesus, get in I'll drive you to seizures
Humanoid pause, before God, cyborg dogs after me
these rhymin' Sigmund Freuds for the cause

Your whole life's a room for worms
Strangest occurs, you see in furs
toast out facin' Earth, avenge my sixteen
Your old shell talk to like Starscream

My whole story on a wall in black marker
66 more flicks for Clive
With a little message, for real kids
Can you guess who the DJ is?

My anti-commercial style will you
Say fuck so much, my airplay's like
To shift farm chemists, the senate scarred
killin' all the livin' like the Serbian guards

You supportin' communism majors so dub
Watch me put two in Kurt Loder head, whassup

This is for the whores, and the over stores
And fifty-four dollars in my pocket on
This is for the kid said, "Oh, you dead"
And the fifty-four stitches he caught in his head

This is for the clowns, I beat no hands
And the two O-Z's, down to fifty-four
two to the face, I'm a basket face
With seconds to outer space

The undead, red light in the
For Cage, ripped, in on the concrete
Screamin', "That's my runnin' down the street"
Runnin' down the street, runnin down, down the street