Luyện nghe bài hát Down for the Count

One, two, three,
Grimy bitch stomp the bogey outside front door (yeah)
on Goodie, eatin tuna and rye
Blow the spot with some old school shit from junior
One, two, three,
Jersey's in the house, punchlines and metaphors
Make your foul ice grill, grimy on the real
Puttin heads to bed like Hennessey and

Convertible style, still had the knockin
Bumpin shit way back with my man beatboxin
Shootin the - see I'm nice with these
You'll be suckin it down like fast food
of rap bitch that love underground classics
Gettin more green than that St. Patrick
Makin wack go and merc the set {*dial-up sounds*}
off behind a desk tryin to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get in
Worse than boric in your project cabinet
Harriet, increase the fanbases
Leavin non-writin cats on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin with whites
Leave the party over here like they
Got Cali critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
Gonna rock shit like he can't get no visits

One, two, three,
the whole world like the Rolling Stone tour
Raw your wack set is than a bomb threat
By a nervous terrorist who's so scared his palms wet
One, two, three,
The stuff legends are made of, urban
Like Jim Morrison we on through
I care about your take on me, we take on you

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it to your face from the start, yo
Rage Against the Machine, it apart
Might be over your head, but straight from the heart
I my love in the light while why'all hate in the dark
Straight to apocalypse is where I'm the art
Givin battle scars, ALWAYS makin my mark
You fakin the of gangster, til niggaz break in your spot
You bitch whether I say it or not
Shit is hot, spittin flames on the
Put our town's on the map
From now we fadin to black
Where we at? rebels love metal clubs ghetto
When the let go like Frankie Beverly
Forever we stack notes like the treasury, flow
Get you high on laced with obscenity
Niggaz be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and rescue remedy
Then the fuck off like limbs affected with leprosy

One, two, three,
Why the fuck MC's MC no more?
Hardcore til somebody put me the ground
a dick in your ear, still couldn't fuck with my sound
One, two, three,
Takin me straight to the weed spot, to the liquor sto'
"Gimme Mo'" like Busta Bus', who do you trust?
Swingin through, your neighborhood lush

I'm I-rate, usin your for live bait
Xzibit them heavy gems you can't take
Dilate, cock back the weight, hate
Heavy metal we settle and set straight
Hit gates in my younger days, from the
Me and my clan used to dance than quicksand
Supply and demand the hand is quicker the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you find it hard to stick to lie
I see through the tricks, the facade
Your little lungs is too weak to with God
Rah Digga, First of the Flipmode Squad
Gotta be like a young nigga walkin the yard
For the first time, we the niggaz you let shine
Expect mines to blow lines like coke
I'm an Alkaholik so I finish the fifth
You at the front door bitchin you ain't on the list

It's
One, two, three,