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

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

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

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

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, 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?
through, your favorite neighborhood lush

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

It's
One, two, three,