Luyện nghe bài hát Bowling Song (Almighty Malachi, Professional Bowling God)

You watch me on TV, say that my job is easy.
Say I am not athletic, you my sport's pathetic.

But you judge me 'til you've walked a mile
in my shoes...

So I don't get all the ladies, got a mullet the 80's.
I'm known the valleys as the prophet of alleys...

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me or let me die!"
I'm Almighty Malachi, the god.
The smell of gets my high, kiss those fuckin' pins goodbye!
I'm Malachi, the bowling... bowling... god.

Got a ball smooth and all black,
I keep it in my ball sack.
I get a in my soul as I finger every hole...

And as I roll the ball I cry, "Let me or let me die!"
I'm Malachi, the bowling god.
The of rosin gets my high,
those motherfuckin' pins goodbye!
I'm Malachi, the bowling... bowling...

Not a single man will try to beat Malachi.
All who challenge me are slain; come on fuckers, a lane.
Marshall Home and Gary Dickens, get in line for ass kickins'.
John and Norton Duke; you're so lame, it makes me puke.
Who amongst the sector dares to don his wrist protector?
Not that pussy Nelson Burton, tells me that his is hurtin'.
Hey Walfey, Earl the Pearl,
are ya' scared to the ball a hurl?
How bout' Dickey and his son Pete;
I'll turn the to Cream of Wheat!

And as I roll the I cry, "Let me bowl or let me die!"
I'm Malachi, the bowling god.
The smell of gets my high, kiss those fuckin' pins goodbye!
I'm Malachi, the bowling... bowling god!

Yeah, the god...