Luyện nghe bài hát Crosshairs

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

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

Doom, not to be confused with
Especially, since the he used was so nutty
too woozy to go study, crews got no clues
Like old cruddy Officer

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

at a chick flick, holdin' hands
The other one on his swollen glands, a chance
That's why he kept them holes in his
in a old van is what he told his stolen fans

Is that you Matched from hat to shoe
Snafu, any brew, LaBatt's Blue
Black Jew like that's new, me through
No latch attached, shoo, catch twenty-two

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 mean cream puffs
A keen machine buff, who fiends for more green stuff
of starvin' there be problems by the goo gobs
Aight, somebody's robbin' Lou Dobbs and tonight

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

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

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