Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

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

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

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

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

I'm I-rate, your body for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy gems you take
Dilate, cock the weight, spread hate
Heavy we settle and set shit straight
Hit in my younger days, from the policeman
Me and my clan used to thicker than quicksand
Supply and demand the hand is 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 is too weak to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, Lady of the Flipmode Squad
Gotta be like a young nigga walkin the yard
For the first time, we ain't the niggaz you let
mines to blow lines like coke everytime
I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I finish the
You at the front door bitchin because you on the list

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One, two, three,