Luyện nghe bài hát 54

Kill that cat, watch me kill cat
If your girl, I'm lookin' at
Then watch me kill cat

I cunts like these, with underground disease
In they yearly matin' spots, spawn a MC's
They used to go to shows, dance get high
Then you click the mic the whole audience wanna

In '92 I let the Cage Alex
Through college radio demonstrate the fist, fuck the love
Summon in my ad libs, fun triplin'
Vomit good shit, go off dead Christians

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

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

tiger serum, I can't hear 'em, who?
Alex with the fuckin' loaded thirty-oh-two,

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

is for the clowns, I beat with no hands
And the two O-Z's, to fifty-four 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 green Jesus, get in I'll you to seizures
Humanoid pause, before God, with cyborg dogs me
Killin' these rhymin' Sigmund for the cause

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

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

My style will curse you
Say fuck so much, my airplay's curfew
To third farm chemists, the senate scarred
Start killin' all the like the Serbian guards

You communism buyin' majors so dub
Watch me put two rocks in Loder head, whassup

This is for the whores, and the kicked over
And fifty-four dollars in my 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 with no
And the two O-Z's, to fifty-four grams
With two to the face, I'm a face
With fifty-four to outer space

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