Luyện nghe bài hát Down for the Count

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

Convertible style, had the heat knockin
Bumpin from way back with my man beatboxin
Shootin the breeze - see I'm with these
be suckin it down like fast food 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 tryin to the net
I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get added in
Worse than acid in your project cabinet
Dirty Harriet, increase the
Leavin non-writin cats stuck on the
Mini-skirts with tights, lunch with whites
Leave the party here like they Israelites
Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??)
Gonna rock shit like he can't get no visits

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

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

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

I'm I-rate, usin your body for live
rockin them heavy gems 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 used to dance than quicksand
Supply and the hand is quicker than the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you it hard to stick to your lie
I see through the tricks, the facade
Your little is too weak to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, Lady of the Flipmode Squad
Gotta be hard like a young walkin the yard
For the time, we ain't the niggaz you let shine
Expect mines to blow lines coke everytime
I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I finish the
You at the front door bitchin you ain't on the list

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One, two, three,