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 some old school shit from high
One, two, three,
Jersey's finest in the house, punchlines and
Make your ice grill, thug grimy on the real
Puttin heads to bed Hennessey and NyQuil

Convertible style, still had the knockin
Bumpin shit from way back with my man
Shootin the breeze - see I'm nice these
be suckin it down like fast food high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love underground
Gettin more than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin rappers go and merc the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off behind a tryin to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get in
Worse boric acid in your project cabinet
Dirty Harriet, increase the
non-writin cats stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin lunch with
Leave the party over here they Israelites
Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??)
Gonna rock shit down like he get no visits

One, two, three,
Rock the whole world like the Rolling tour
Raw wack set is faker than a bomb threat
By a nervous terrorist so scared that his palms wet
One, two, three,
The stuff legends are made of, urban
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 face from the start, yo
Rage the Machine, break it apart
Might be your head, but it's straight from the heart
I show my love in the while why'all hate in the dark
Straight to apocalypse is where I'm the art
Givin niggaz battle scars, ALWAYS my mark
You fakin the part of gangster, til niggaz in your spot
You straight whether I say it or not
Shit is hot, flames on the track
Put our names on the map
now until we fadin 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 on speech laced with obscenity
Niggaz be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and rescue remedy
Then fall the fuck off like limbs affected with

One, two, three,
Why the fuck can't MC no more?
til somebody put me under the ground
With a dick in 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
Swingin through, your favorite lush

I'm I-rate, usin your body for bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy gems you 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 thicker than
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, the facade
Your little lungs is too to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, First Lady of the Squad
Gotta be hard like a young nigga the yard
For the first time, we ain't the you let shine
Expect to blow lines like coke everytime
I'm an nigga so I finish the fifth
You at the front door bitchin you ain't on the list

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One, two, three,