Luyện nghe bài hát Coma

"We now present to you...music" up*
"Music to you stutter"

Rock]
I've been a biplane dog Henson invention
Trooper burst of Dragon Ball Z/Speed Racer gene splicing
Mach force, blind the extorted style the common dirty
Destiny sighting, important as split the prints
God shit the planet "What on Earth is that?"
I sit five dimensions
to muscle the overcooked specimen
Fending fatality successful dodging violets
All hail and hello dollies!
I ridiculous, indigenous to now
Who holds the golden ticket?
Saw the wicked war mansion beyond the pickets
The house next door to when the stickball the fence
Y'all to fetch it!
I was through a pinball tilt built landscape
Terradactle circling
I bite the bullet in a wingspan
Suck and the oxygen gulps
And spit the directly back up the barrel
We icegrill the (right)
The common decency factors a estimate of zero
My testament is striking b-boy
Dancing the foggy mirror
With wipes clean the goat beard, camoflague the spirit
I'm at six degrees of sarcasm
never swam up inside summerjam classic
Under the bed backwards
Scaverning the grounds for an outlet
WHO THE IS AES ROCK?
I'm not a name to keep at length
Adjacent to little quilt makeshift
Sick security mechanism, your mission
I am not a vision, check your
a simple sourpatch delinquent
No it will not help you shove Lincoln

2x
I alone
I alone in the mud
I alone, I condone zone planting
I alone in a social coma
All up to your dome, follow I

"Now you see me, now you don't" [Method

[Aesop
he was maverick enough but still scraped up
Taki 183 for the kids
Brick foot ironlung
Escape through the night like a teen Krylon bomber
Without a care inside from posting the
Mal-adjusted blank faced dispersed feelings
Reeling in several separate defunct modules
nervous twitch mark the most delectable ingredient
See starving troops in cell blocks with strap-on feeding bins
(More like) I'd auction off a fuck for that blind cause you ride in
I'd rather the floors and watch you hide them
Feel the haggered look penetrate brain
Blasting clear out the of this batches sour wind collection
(FLASH FLOODER!)
a fuckin wind-up toy
A goddamn string criminal trading card
The reason decorate the fonts of closing credits
To boost on-looker amusement after fading
more Z's than Rip Van Winkle's 12 Step Narcolepsy Seminar
The action, we all compete the illusion
The commonfolk, I em all
Challenge thirty
I alone pour talent they fidget
If the revolution ain't gon' be
fuck, I'll probably miss it

2x