Luyện nghe bài hát Land of the Lost

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Bắt đầu làm bài nào

f/ Marilyn

Verse (SPM):

He was the son of a man, what he saw was what he learned
He school, now it's finally his turn
To rob and steal, but he feels he needs to stop and
deep in his heart he knows that God is real
Mama tries, to open his eyes
'cause the way a man is the way a man dies
His father's twenty-five to life
'cause the love of cuts like a knife
Blinding lights, he know which way to go
His best friend got killed two days ago
He writes his Dad the first letter that he wrote
A little note, about how bad his was broke
Before the mail, could reach his jail cell
The boy was murdered at a hotel
selling wholesale like his pop taught him
Rock bottom, a cop shot him

(Marilyn Rylander):

We will....
you...
We will...
love for you...
A of life....
And now gone...
You a life....
In the of the Lost....

Verse (SPM):

They met when they was teenagers, around the tenth
She fell in love, and now he to get paid
He convinced her to at the buck naked
And everything she dancing he would take it
She got a fake I.D., and a club
A second life, she had to live in silence
At seventeen, she got the strength to finally him
when she met the demon
Circumstances led to last dances
It was a cold murder, he made sure that he hurt her
Over shit, but he had to take it further
She hit the canvas, now she at Frances
Six o' clock services, the nervousness
Of to look at death perfectless
I'm smoking roaches burning the out my fingers

Remembering the words of the Church choir

Third (SPM):
Mexican gangbanger

A trigger happy ditch
Set tripper, wig
Itchy quick to blast upon a rival
Vida loca, word for suicidal
Same color of skin, but different color
Browns putting browns up in bags
Every two or three streets is a different
They got no for themselves so they living sick
For centuries we been penitentaries
It's to see, we're our worst enemy
The smartest, most of the raza
Is all dead or doing for a fuckin' Tronza
Geniuses, all meaningless
'cause they can't find a way to break free this
to say, the gangsta that I speak of
G-Love, is laying in a grave he dug