Luyện nghe bài hát Crosshairs

The fat is in the fire, a fryer made of chicken
Gettin' sick and tired of a friggin'
Pelican with some very mangoes
A closet of skeletons and terry cloth Kangols

Flew the coop before you hit it let me you
She did a cool hula-hoop but get any on you
It's all a big scam to y'all eat pig ham
When he's on the mic he's like the man, fig jam

Doom, not to be confused with
Especially, the flows he used was so nutty
Never too woozy to go study, crews got no
Like old cruddy Officer

Watch your six, he got a lot of tricks
Lyrics, bricks, on sticks got raw-nytics
It's a gift, get shot for kicks
With the same slick used to plot sick with

Spotted at a flick, holdin' hands
The other one on his swollen glands, a golden
why he kept them holes in his pants
Rollin' in a old van is what he told his stolen

Is that you true? Matched hat to shoe
Snafu, snatch any brew, LaBatt's
Black Jew like that's new, patch me
No latch attached, skat shoo, twenty-two

Super, loaded dice nice
And overpriced, a arm and a leg, life or your ice
Villain, nag a old hag
a bragger by his mic cord and leave him holding the bag

Come clean, a bunch of mean cream puffs
A keen drum machine buff, who fiends for more green
of starvin' there be problems by the goo gobs
Aight, somebody's Lou Dobbs and them tonight

And on the next flight, moon bound
And makes it a point to stay away from the goon
Got some peers, that's gone in the years
and cheers, born in the crosshairs

Hey Mr.
What's that you were
(It is the Robotic of Doom)

Well, I say
Nuttin' livens up a Hymn of Doom
Better than an amazing of jugs