Luyện nghe bài hát 54

Kill that cat, me kill that cat
If it's your girl, I'm at
watch me kill that cat

I hunt cunts like these, with underground
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 wanna rhyme

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

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

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

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

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

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

I a bull mastiff ground up, make a pound up
With green Jesus, get in drive you to seizures
Humanoid pause, before God, with cyborg dogs me
Killin' these rhymin' Freuds for the cause

Your whole a waitin' room for worms
occurs, you see Venus in furs
With toast out facin' Earth, avenge my
old shell talk to pistols like Starscream

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

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

You supportin' communism buyin' so dub
me put two rocks 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 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 face
With fifty-four to outer space

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