Luyện nghe bài hát Gotta Lotta Walls

Dialed up his homie on the telephone
talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong
Brain up, he don't know what to do
But the people that know him know that it ain't new
Catch five rings, then an answering
Hang up on the beep, stare up the ceiling
Stood up to remember that he slept
So he grabbed his and put a hat on his rat's nest
up to that big outside
Somebody said "Today's a good day to die."
But he never really was a big fan of work
So he starts up the walk by kicking in the dirt
A to the strangers, a stranger to friends
He'll take a coffee and a pack of cigarettes when you have a
Handle it. Paid up. The change, you can it
He's a sucker for the morning smile and cleavage
If you knew him better ask for some time
'cause looking for a reservoire to empty his mind
And there's only so much he can put in a
Gotta to somebody who can tell him what the hell is wrong

2X]
And this has gotta lotta walls
But only few mean anything to you
And this house has gotta walls
But only very few mean to you

No value to titillate
Far from shallow, so get it
Blacktop, sidewalk,and the
'cause life is and talk is cheap
And as he sits (as he sits) in his four-cornered
a tune, born to consume
Carefully learning and analyzing the you use
Finally realizing that humility is a
love don't make none
If these walls could speak, would peep about the fake ones
this man, falling off of his plan-
Underachievin' just so he can understand. (Crazy speech.)

So, who did tattoos?
nice
And who built tabboos?
life
If he had a glass pipe, he would it and use it to slash his wrists
But someone beat him to it
He would fingerpaint you a picture his blood
A self-portrait, dramatic and
But the of you finding any appreciation are too slim-
Keeps his outlook
Tap his to the rhythm of original sin
Throw his balls to the wind trying to know these pins
He'll keep swinging the hair above his chin
he finds his soul in the fifty cent bin
The price of the escalates
Fake smile he takes home one of his dates
He could write another hate-poem for you to
Or maybe stay calm and for that big earthquake
Still by the fire and the water
Still to honor this empire's daughter
Still questions you're afraid to ask
Still believing that God's gonna his ass

If you knew him better he'd ask for some
'cause looking for a reservoire to empty his mind
And there's so much he can put in a song
Gotta talk to somebody who can tell him what the hell is