Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

One, two, three,
Grimy bitch stomp the bogey outside your front (yeah)
Puffin on Goodie, eatin 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, thug grimy on the
Puttin to bed like Hennessey and NyQuil

style, still had the heat knockin
Bumpin shit way back with my man beatboxin
Shootin the - see I'm nice with these
You'll be suckin it down fast food high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love classics
Gettin more than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin wack rappers go and the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off behind a desk tryin to the net
I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get added in
Worse than boric acid in your project
Dirty Harriet, increase the
Leavin non-writin stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin lunch whites
the party over here like they Israelites
Got Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
Gonna rock shit down like he 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 scared his palms wet
One, two, three,
The stuff legends are of, urban folklore
Like Jim Morrison we break on
Before I care your take on me, we take on you

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

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

I'm I-rate, usin your body for live
Xzibit them heavy gems you can't take
Dilate, cock the weight, spread hate
Heavy metal we settle and set straight
Hit gates in my younger days, the policeman
Me and my clan used to dance thicker than
Supply and demand the hand is than the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you find it to stick to your lie
I see through the tricks, destroy the
Your little lungs is too weak to hotbox 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 niggaz you let
Expect mines to 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

It's
One, two, three,