Luyện nghe bài hát 54

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

I hunt cunts 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 wanna rhyme

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

Red in the Lincoln, from 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 evaporate my state

Plus when Cage ripped in 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

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

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

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 basket
With fifty-four seconds to space

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

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

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

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

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

This is for the whores, and the over stores
And fifty-four dollars in my on tour
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"
Runnin' down the street, down, running down the street