Luyện nghe bài hát Crosshairs

The fat is in the fire, a fryer of chicken wire
Gettin' sick and tired of a liar
with some very soft mangoes
A closet full of skeletons and terry cloth

Flew the coop before you hit it let me you
She did a cool but don't get any on you
all a big scam to make y'all eat pig ham
When he's on the mic he's like the man, fig jam

Doom, not to be with nobody
Especially, since the he used was so nutty
Never too to go study, crews got no clues
old cruddy Officer McGillicuddy

Watch your six, he got a lot of tricks
Lyrics, bricks, on sure got raw-nytics
It's a gift, don't get for kicks
With the slick used to plot sick vicks with

Spotted at a chick flick, hands
The one on his swollen glands, a golden chance
That's why he 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, Blue
Black Jew that's new, patch me through
No latch attached, skat shoo, catch

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

Come clean, a bunch of dumb mean cream
A keen machine buff, who fiends for more green stuff
Instead of starvin' there be 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 from the goon pound
Got some peers, that's gone in the lost
and cheers, born in the crosshairs

Hey Mr.
What's you were singing?
(It is the Hymn of Doom)

Well, I say
livens up a Robotic Hymn of Doom
Better than an amazing pair of