Luyện nghe bài hát Down for the Count

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

Convertible style, still had the heat
Bumpin shit from way back my man beatboxin
the breeze - see I'm nice with these
You'll be suckin it down like fast high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love classics
more green than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin wack rappers go and the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off behind a desk to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get in
Worse boric acid in your project cabinet
Harriet, increase the fanbases
Leavin cats stuck on the plantations
with tights, eatin lunch with whites
Leave the party over here like they
Got Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
Gonna rock shit down like he can't get no

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

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it straight to your face the start, yo
Against the Machine, break it apart
Might be over your head, but straight from the heart
I show my love in the light while hate in the dark
to apocalypse is where I'm takin the art
Givin niggaz battle scars, ALWAYS makin my
You fakin the of gangster, til niggaz break in your spot
You straight bitch I say it or not
Shit is hot, spittin on the track
Put our town's on the map
now until we fadin to black
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 on speech laced with obscenity
Niggaz be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need remedy
Then fall the off like limbs affected with leprosy

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

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

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One, two, three,