Luyện nghe bài hát Down for the Count

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

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

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

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

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

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

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One, two, three,