Luyện nghe bài hát 54

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

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

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

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

Plus Cage ripped 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 the fuckin' loaded thirty-oh-two, 'cause

This is for the whores, and the kicked over
And dollars in my pocket on tour
is for the kid that said, "Oh, you dead"
And the fifty-four 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
With two to the face, I'm a 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, cyborg dogs after me
these rhymin' Sigmund Freuds for the cause

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

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

My anti-commercial style curse you
Say fuck so much, my like curfew
To third shift farm chemists, the scarred
killin' all the livin' like the Serbian guards

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

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

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

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