Luyện nghe bài hát Crime Stories (Interlude)

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{*thunder &

[Intro: Killah
Crime, Stories (Will someone help me?)
Stories (Someone help me)
Crime (I'm dyin)
Crime

Priest]
The mobster, long coat and brim hat, in the rain
Fallin, load the .38, heavy, beneath a window pane
Sideways from cop cars {*cop sirens*}, through his ears
And the blended with his tears, heart full of fear
He's exhausted the loss of blood, his head is drowsy
He thought to his self, "Damn, all the fake niggas me"
So he fought off a thug, heavy
With the in his hand that he held was deadly
His face was
Damn, what you do when you at the door of and death?
Plus you staggered 22 blocks, with a bullet in chest
Plus you wet
You catch pneumonia, suddenly you smelt smell death's foul aroma
It burnt his nose like ammonia
He inhaled deep then asleep
Opened his in Hell
Where he saw every nigga he the sale
Every crack addict a bad habit
Every drug users and needle abuser
knew he worked for Lucifer
He his eyes and opened them again (Yo)
But still, he was with the fire and brimstone
This is your (Uh-oh), that's it, end of poem
(Help me! AGGGH! HELP! sound*} HELP!)