Luyện nghe bài hát Down for the Count

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

Convertible style, had the heat knockin
Bumpin shit way back with my man beatboxin
Shootin the breeze - see I'm nice these
be suckin it down like fast food high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love classics
Gettin more green than that nigga St.
Makin wack rappers go and the set {*dial-up sounds*}
off behind a desk tryin to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em my joints get added in
Worse than boric acid in your cabinet
Dirty Harriet, increase the
non-writin cats stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts tights, eatin lunch with whites
Leave the party over here like Israelites
Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??)
Gonna rock down like he can't get no visits

One, two, three,
Rock the whole world the Rolling Stone tour
Raw your wack set is faker a bomb threat
By a nervous terrorist who's so scared that his wet
One, two, three,
The stuff legends are made of, urban
Like Jim we break on through
Before I care 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
be over your head, but it's straight from the heart
I show my in the light while why'all hate in the dark
Straight to apocalypse is I'm takin the art
Givin niggaz battle scars, ALWAYS makin my
You fakin the part of gangster, til niggaz break in your
You bitch whether I say it or not
is hot, spittin flames on the track
Put our names on the map
From now until we to black
Where we at? Thug rebels love clubs ghetto
When the slugs let go like Beverly
Forever we notes like the treasury, flow heavenly
Get you high on laced with obscenity
be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then the fuck off like limbs affected with leprosy

One, two, three,
Why the fuck can't MC no more?
Hardcore til put me under the ground
With a in your ear, still couldn't fuck with my sound
One, two, three,
Takin me straight to the weed spot, then to the liquor
"Gimme Some Mo'" Busta Bus', who do you trust?
Swingin through, your favorite lush

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

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One, two, three,