Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

One, two, three,
Grimy bitch stomp the outside your front door (yeah)
on Goodie, eatin tuna and rye
Blow the spot 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 from way with my man beatboxin
Shootin the breeze - see I'm nice these
You'll be suckin it down like fast high-see's
Type of rap bitch that underground classics
Gettin more than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin wack rappers go and the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off behind a desk to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get in
Worse than boric acid in your project
Dirty Harriet, increase the
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 shit down like he can't get no visits

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

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it straight to your face the start, yo
Rage Against the Machine, break it
Might be over your head, but straight from 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 niggaz scars, ALWAYS makin my mark
You fakin the part of gangster, til niggaz break in your
You straight whether I say it or not
Shit is hot, flames on the track
Put our town's on the map
now until we fadin to black
Where we at? Thug rebels love metal clubs
When the slugs let go like Frankie
Forever we stack notes like the treasury, flow
Get you high on laced with obscenity
Niggaz be gassed like Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then the fuck 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 fuck my sound
One, two, three,
Takin me straight to the spot, then to the liquor sto'
"Gimme Some Mo'" like Busta Bus', who do you
Swingin through, your favorite neighborhood

I'm I-rate, usin your for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy you can't take
Dilate, back the weight, spread hate
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 demand the hand is than the eye
Find chickens to fry, while you find 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 a young nigga walkin the yard
For the first time, we ain't the you let shine
Expect mines to blow lines coke everytime
I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I the fifth
You at the front door because you ain't on the list

It's
One, two, three,