Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the hook home slice, a lucky fish.
All I is that you taste this like a Swedish dish.
the L-A-R-S, H-O double-R I-S...
and I CV, and yes I must confess:
I'm 2003 and the snare drum pumps.
Back up, Kris Kross, my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
rocking it Ritchie Valens,
and I'm up to fresh session,
yes I'm up to fresh challenge.
And I'm thinking, and I'm writing,
and I'm rapping, and I'll
all the layers of apathy
up the zone.
Because analyze your world,
analyze your head.
I'll readjust paradigm with this microphone.
I was in my '88 south on 101,
the woofer in the back bumping P.E. number one.
Free-styling in a I didn't create,
to Melle Mel, Chuck D, and all eight
hundred thousand on whose shoulders I stand.
I'm a white kid with a plastic jammie in his hand!
See MC here spends his life feeling fine,
but often get off in a straight line.
Fine, will tell where he's headed.
up to chance, like Gretel's path is breaded.
Your I'm above it! Your BS? Let's rubber glove it!
your heroin and shove it... life you've got to love it.
So get this, steal this, deal this, peel away,
I this song out of my brain neurons and clay.
It helped my brain for a week and a day,
one day it stopped working like the city of Pompeii.
But okay, hey, because I roll it home.
Knick knack whack, my sonic range his grown.
Profound like Antoine De Exuperey,
when I rock the chorus of song I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Swedish, part Australian, full fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I scored on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I'll rock the CoHo 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I drop and math and biology.

I piss Catholics off with my comic in the Daily. "Why's it called Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he ever try to the mike like me?
And I'm weird like Al, don't attend Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Mike?
Josh bass and I take wedding vows,
to my hip-hop rhymes that I'm now.
And I satisfy like GER's,
I advocate the of SUV cars.
I Israel and Palestine should get along.
I sampled Nine Inch for this song.
And I'm so post-modern, I don't exist.
Did you hear that P.
You got dissed!
It's the century, MC's please,
killing hip-hop when you sample the Bee Gees!
Most MC's today rap five things:
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
of grandeur in full swing,
fascist self focus and rings.
But if Martin King were alive today,
how he weigh the decay displayed?
identities, ourselves betrayed,
there's more to rap than getting paid.
And there's to life than MTV and Reeses Pieces,
and when I sit in silence, my for life increases.
It great to pull the plug on the family TV,
and my own niche in society.
And while I freak beat, you're doing spoken word,
to get your naked voice heard.
If I know ProTools, I'd be like you
and I could just do spoken word if I to.

"Lars Horris," hey me!
You might see me on the street Run-DMC.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
After my BA get my PhD.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Metaphysically fly like Donne's "The Flea."
"Lars Horris," hey me!
Rewriting Bronte Wide Sargasso Sea.