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

You watch me on your TV, say my job is easy.
Say I am not athletic, you think my pathetic.

But you can't me 'til you've walked a mile
in my shoes...

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

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

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

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

Not a single man will try to beat Malachi.
All who me are slain; come on fuckers, pick a lane.
Marshall Home and Dickens, get in line for your ass kickins'.
John Patracky and Duke; you're so lame, it makes me puke.
Who the pro-bowl sector dares to don his wrist protector?
Not that pussy Nelson Burton, tells me his wrist is hurtin'.
Hey Mark Walfey, the Pearl,
are ya' scared to give the ball a
How bout' Dickey Webber and his son
turn the motherfuckas to Cream of Wheat!

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

Yeah, the god...