Luyện nghe bài hát Heart

Slightly borderline psychotic
Sensational narcotics
I thought I it but I found it
Temptation marches till I'm surrounded
Inspired by fire the illusion
Caught between the crossfire and confusion
at the moon black blanket that's starlit
I'm rarely plowing through tramps and harlots madchild prevails tails of the unwanted
Not to be taken for
My past has back and haunted for real
I've all ready danced with death. a dozen black
I pose with breath
Be a place where magic is made
I'll rain on parade with silver razor blades
I'm over the fence crawlin through your back yard
My states intense
Savage on the rocks with a twist
Now scream and shake your
Cause are made of this

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

You dropped somethin', it's your
An' still pumpin', pumpin' you from this existence
It seems to be absolutely mandatory, cuz you be skin
But no way, because you fake I can trace out image
Even though you cast one, I smell a rat, I'm smellin' that
Stay back at 150 inches
You brew tea? an I you know I can sense it
the nostrils innocently mixed with 6 hostile stenches
Henceforth the elbow swings dinging, we bring whip to bleed
Swingin' sleep out mouth
How long you been Too long!
You're abiding and a felon, to switch your melon
Droppin' like a judges hammer
I feel you mark, me feel your chart
You gotta be real an you to have heart
You gotta to be an you gots to have heart

Stir the blur, and bolts whirl
Stored in electric ports, 4 boxes of 10 floors
the weight towards the door, in hopes of escape
When hands on cord, the blazing Prev creates
break, concord, eye of the condor
Hand of a saboteur, your in for
A war that coarse of molten into cords
Strung by the ones, put me on tour
No folk lore for poison, pour in skin pores

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