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
the spot with some old school shit from junior high
One, two, three,
Jersey's in the house, punchlines and metaphors
Make foul ice grill, thug grimy on the real
Puttin heads to bed like and NyQuil

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

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

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

One, two, three,
Why the fuck can't 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, to the liquor sto'
"Gimme Mo'" like Busta Bus', who do you trust?
Swingin through, your favorite lush

I'm I-rate, usin body for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy gems you take
Dilate, back the weight, spread hate
Heavy metal we settle and set shit
Hit gates in my days, from the policeman
Me and my clan used to thicker than quicksand
Supply and demand the hand is 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 lungs is too weak to hotbox God
Rah Digga, First 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 like everytime
I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I the fifth
You at the front door bitchin because you ain't on the

It's
One, two, three,