Luyện nghe bài hát Cool Band Buzz

They want to good freestyling with sarcasm of Woody Allen
Their own oil rigs
They're just spoiled kids who I must aim to please
And so I'm dipped in a vat
And you know town is a tourist trap
Run by entertainment industries and the
the ultimate brain freeze
This I'm Sambo
I'm on the Clear
I'm smiling and reading my of prose
I talk of the common man and of the land
But I'm and make the Marxists doze
My was a jar of lit bulbs
I to make viewers carsick at shows
But now I'm easily the compromising slut
Oh, it's hard to this harlot clothed
I network and do more than
I start toes
Underground smell like garlic cloves
But me, I'm smug and
Paid obscenely to at a set event
Companies my likeliness
Money, it heightens my fits
I wrote the great American pop stylized to my respective tiny niche

I wasn't invited to your
got no plus one and a low slush fund
I never expected to win big
I never for you to open my press kit

The attendance is always subpar when I at a club or bar
Why did I choose to do weird
I steered my career off a cliff in a flaming car
So now I'm falling a bottomless pit
But I'm trying to be
I spin plates
But the label prorates
My arms are to cotton with
Look at the portraits in my doodle sketch
Meaning and art with every brush stroke
But my promises of revolution are threats
I'm so over my crotch is bloodsoaked
I'll African dance and cast a voodoo hex while in your dorm spilling all the bong
And count the stars in the nebula until a goggleplex selling you sticks of nag champa
I in the coffee shop
Looking Jean-Michel Basquiat
And kill gaudy pop dirty laundry smell
Acting all
Leaving oddly distraught
Gentle laughter when I'm telling jokes at your dead pool
I am a of an exquisite corpse
I'll cry ten minutes in wet tennis court because I wasn't invited