Luyện nghe bài hát Damage

Peace, peace!
Dirty, ol bastard
The Genius!
The

grab the mic and now I damage you
Cut whole stamina, here comes the medical examiner
One verse you're out for the count
Bring the ammonia make sure he sniffs the amount

Wake him up and then I ask him, "Why did he this?"
to get an ass kickin' so tremendous
Boy you shouldn't bother
me alone like the son said, G or he'll be fatherless!

I got the asiatic mixed with disco
Roll up on the scene like the count of Monte
And MC's to vanish
I stepped up to a jet black kid, started Spanish

Yo he from Panama
I asked him how he get so dark, the said, "Suntama"
He responded so fast, you made me
Ha ha ha haa, then I his ass

Kick the hundred strongest rhymes, I brought out the in him
Caught him a strong five deadly venom
Told him enter the
Witness the slang, that'll crush the shit you bring

I your ass take a big fall, why?
My main is like a friendly game of stick ball
And as you up to bat mana dn I play the riddler
You try to do me for a rhyme then I'll to Hitler

Go out like Nazi, be wishin your fuckin' ass stayed
and played yahtzee!
Or 'Happy Days' sweatin' Poxie
With Ralphie and Richie Cunningham, Joni and

Wu, who? Me gettin so I'm through
a ten and a half foot, gettin' in a seven shoe
Now picture with a Minolta
Have your ass doin' some Fever' shit like John Travolta

I come strong I make knowledge born, I flip the
And rock on from p.m. the fucking dawn
Pass the hammer you're broke down, niggaz grab my what,
understand it, here's the panaroma

A complete of how I defeat you
Should of stepped to those fuckin' who tried to beat you
Yeah I bust that ass
You ran to Texas and came back but the chainsaw!

And want to perform a
Better be coming with some motherfucking shit that's
Crush the person who did 'em, well you better
So I'm stepping to your ass jetta

Put the pedal to the
You and your DJ change your to Ma and Pa Kettle
As I pass the bone, kicks your measure
not a Newport but it's still live with pleasure

C'mon don't be silly, a bag of sensimilli
Rolled up in a Philly
I used to write all the time I smoked
Grab the mic, I kinda like went for broke

With visually concepts strongest and biceps
Lyrically speakin', three to four rhymes then
Some think be harmin' this, claimin' they be bombin' this
But they still remains

I strings like Jimi Hendrix
Ride more beats that go to the days of Eddie Kendricks
I the truth to the youth, I say, "Hey youth
Here's the truth, better wearing bullet proof"
Arm with a shield
Before you get trapped up just the children in the cornfield