Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

style, still had the heat knockin
Bumpin shit way back with my man beatboxin
Shootin the breeze - see I'm with these
You'll be suckin it down like food high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love classics
Gettin more than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin wack rappers go and merc the set {*dial-up
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, the fanbases
Leavin non-writin stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin with whites
Leave the party over here like they
Got Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
Gonna rock shit down he can't get no visits

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

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it to your face from the start, yo
Rage Against the Machine, break it
be over your head, but it's straight from the heart
I show my love in the light while why'all hate in the
Straight to apocalypse is 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 bitch I say it or not
Shit is hot, spittin on the track
Put our town's on the map
From now until we fadin to
Where we at? Thug rebels love metal clubs
When the slugs let go Frankie Beverly
Forever we stack notes like the treasury, heavenly
Get you high on speech with obscenity
Niggaz be gassed Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then fall the fuck off like limbs with leprosy

One, two, three,
Why the fuck can't MC no more?
til somebody put me under the ground
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 Some Mo'" Busta Bus', who do you trust?
through, your favorite neighborhood lush

I'm I-rate, usin your for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy you can't take
Dilate, cock back the weight, hate
Heavy metal we settle and set shit
Hit in my younger days, from 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, 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 of the Flipmode Squad
Gotta be like a young nigga walkin the yard
For the time, we ain't the niggaz 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 because you ain't on the

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One, two, three,