Luyện nghe bài hát Hey That's Me

It's off the hook slice, like a lucky fish.
All I wish is that you taste this like a 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, Kross, it's my turn to jump.
See I'm a and I'm balanced,
it like 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 fighting
all the layers of apathy
up the zone.
Because I'll analyze world,
analyze your head.
I'll readjust your with this microphone.
I was chilling in my '88 on 101,
with the woofer in the back bumping P.E. one.
Free-styling in a genre I create,
props to Mel, Chuck D, and all eight
hundred thousand MC's on shoulders I stand.
I'm just a kid with a plastic jammie in his hand!
See MC here spends his life feeling fine,
but doesn't often get off in a line.
Fine, time tell where he's headed.
It's up to chance, like 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 made this song out of my brain and clay.
It helped my brain chill for a and a day,
until one day it stopped like the city of Pompeii.
But it's okay, hey, I roll it home.
Knick knack whack, my sonic range his grown.
Profound Antoine De Saint Exuperey,
when I rock the of this song I say...

"Lars Horris," hey me!
Part Swedish, Australian, full fun boy G.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I 1430 on my SAT's.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I'll rock the like 1-2-3.
"Lars Horris," hey me!
I drop and math and biology.

I Catholics off with my comic in the Daily. "Why's it called '27th Street'?" Man, don't front me.
Jorge Cham might do "PhD," but can he ever try to rock the mike me?
And I'm weird like Al, don't Cal, D.J.'s my buddy. Who's Mike?
plays bass and I take wedding vows,
to my rhymes that I'm busting now.
And I women like GER's,
I advocate the of SUV cars.
I think Israel and Palestine get along.
I sampled Nine Inch Nails for song.
And I'm so post-modern, I don't exist.
Did you that P. Diddy?
You got dissed!
It's the century, MC's please,
you're hip-hop when you sample the Bee Gees!
Most MC's today rap about five
narcotics, cars, girls, clothes, and the bling.
Delusions of grandeur in swing,
self focus and diamond rings.
But if Luther King were alive today,
how would he weigh the decay
identities, ourselves betrayed,
there's to rap than just getting paid.
And there's more to life than MTV and Pieces,
and I sit in silence, my love for life increases.
It feels great to the plug on the family TV,
and make my own in society.
And I freak this beat, you're doing spoken word,
to get your naked voice heard.
If I know ProTools, I'd be like you
and I could do spoken word if I wanted to.

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