Luyện nghe bài hát Heart

Slightly schizophrenic psychotic
recreational narcotics
I thought I lost it but I it
Temptation marches along till I'm
Inspired by fire the sensual
Caught between the anger and confusion
Howl at the moon black that's starlit
I'm romantic plowing through tramps and harlots madchild prevails tails of the unwanted
Not to be taken for
My has come back and haunted for real
I've all ready danced death. a dozen black roses
I pose with breath
Be afraid a place where is made
I'll rain on your parade with silver blades
I'm creepin over the crawlin through your back yard
My states intense
Savage penetration on the rocks with a
Now and shake your fists
dreams are made of this

[Thirdrail
For real the opposite transmit
Roamin' the flats with automatics and packs
Doin' jacks for Big Macs, accumulatin' stacks to make G's please, you artificial

You somethin', it's your heart
An' it's still pumpin', pumpin' you this existence
It seems to be absolutely mandatory, cuz you be skin
But no way, because you fake I can out your image
Even you don't cast one, I smell a rat, I'm smellin' that
Stay back at 150 inches
You brew tea? an I know you know I can it
the nostrils innocently mixed with 6 hostile stenches
Henceforth the swings dinging, we bring whip to bleed scalps
Swingin' sleep out your
How long you been Too long!
abiding and aiding a felon, to switch your melon
Droppin' grammar like a judges
I feel you mark, feel me your chart
You gotta be real an you gotta to heart
You gotta to be real an you gots to have

Stir the blur, nuts and bolts
Stored in electric ports, 4 boxes of 10 floors
Shift the towards the door, in hopes of escape
When hands on cord, the blazing roof Prev
Sound break, concord, eye of the
Hand skills of a saboteur, in for
A war that pours coarse of into cords
Strung by the ones, put me on tour
No folk horsemen for poison, pour in skin pores

Nous]
Soft rhymers, metamorphize their characters
Grafted from Africa, in game you got no stature
Not even a in this
Whole makes me yawn
Snatch your heart out chest like a '96 ghetto spawn
Antonym of urban, too feminine for this mentality
Have? in my area, you get snatched out your Suburban
Fallacy no antidote, in this? your age get broke
Runnin' from gun smoke, never rumin'
Silver spoons from flavour
Soon there will be no overseer to ya
When I delve, tell your it's a size 12
Soldiers, leakin' a swine
A snake with no spine, see you, I peeped you
You'll see blue, the
A quick death is fate
Now, I got to do