Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

One, two, three,
Grimy bitch 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, and metaphors
Make your foul ice grill, thug grimy on the
Puttin heads to bed like and NyQuil

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

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

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it straight to your face the start, yo
Rage the Machine, break it apart
Might be over your head, but it's straight from the
I show my in the light while why'all hate in the dark
Straight to apocalypse is where I'm the art
Givin niggaz scars, ALWAYS makin my mark
You the part of gangster, til niggaz 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 love clubs ghetto
When the slugs let go like Beverly
Forever we stack notes like the treasury, heavenly
Get you on speech laced with obscenity
Niggaz be like Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then fall the off like limbs affected with leprosy

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

I'm I-rate, your body for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy gems you can't
Dilate, cock back the weight, spread
Heavy metal we settle and set straight
Hit in my younger days, from the policeman
Me and my clan to dance thicker than quicksand
Supply and the hand is quicker than the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you find it hard to stick to lie
I see through the tricks, the facade
Your little is too weak to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, First Lady of the Squad
Gotta be hard like a young nigga walkin the
For the first time, we ain't the niggaz you let
Expect mines to blow 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,