Luyện nghe bài hát I Shot A Warhol

I a Warhol
Dead with my
When the hit the hole
In the it whistled
Beautiful with no
A face no name
Glass of cold fame
it with slow pain

---

Nostrils of
and kill time
Scenes from a bad
Lived out in time
Who the hero
Which the victim
and fearful
They their positions

Pride and ambition, the inside you
Tendencies to listen, even when you're to
Pry through the
the myth
Try to the cast
acid trips
Mash your against a cold hard bottle of
Washed up stars and old role

She loves the
So that she swallows
But talk to
Which walk she follow
Everybody needs to be
Execute him for the masterpiece he created
Death of a sales
Fire
If the doesn't make you wanna die
Try

---

I a Warhol
Dead my pistol
When the hit the hole
In the canvas it
with no frame
A face no name
Glass of cold fame
Chased it slow pain

No game to to
The coke blinds you
Hope no aim
And its the that you "Eye" to
Steady that rifle
Pointed at your
Open up the
With fallen rival

is the cycle
Replace the
The next batch of
Can hate the famous
Everybody that what they make is golden
When got shot
There thoughts of holding
What'cha gonna do to the bitch
Which slow blow gets
When you get itch

If notice
you're climbing to the focus
Surround yourself with
and like minded
sticks, in whoever heart's the biggest
Eye of the
Is dark, cold and
She you
Because she loves
tear it all apart
From the to the finish

---
I a Warhol
with my pistol
When the wind hit the
In the it whistled
Beautiful with no
A face with no
Glass full of cold
it with slow pain

It's nothing but a pulse
If you just feeling it
Your friends and your
Can't to what you're dealing with
Accustomed to
Now the lust got you it
wide shut
Now your
No it

Travel down the barrel the light
Once in open
easy to lose sight
Don't down
bound to fall flat
If you do hit the
You're bound to back

The sound
She hated every single
But else
Seemed to sing along
along
The belief that every is wrong
We all break in front of God
the break of dawn

Open up the
To sex, drugs, and
Movies, songs,
Everything is on it
So we on it
Got a bullet with face on it
---
I shot a
Dead with my
the wind hit the hole
In the it whistled
Beautiful with no
A with no name
Glass of cold fame
Chased it slow pain