Luyện nghe bài hát Land of the Lost

Hướng dẫn luyện nghe

Bạn hãy nghe bài hát và điền từ còn thiếu vào các ô trống.
Sau khi điền hết, bạn nhấn nút gửi bài ở phía dưới để được chấm điểm.
Với những câu trả lời sai, bạn hãy rê chuột lên ô nhập để xem đáp án đúng.
Nếu bạn muốn luyện nghe lại với các ô trống khác thì click vào link "Làm lại bài điền từ khác" ở cuối bài.

Bắt đầu làm bài nào

f/ Rylander

First (SPM):

He was the son of a dope man, he saw was what he learned
He left school, now finally his turn
To rob and steal, but he feels he needs to stop and
'cause deep in his heart he knows God is real
Mama still tries, to open his
'cause the way a man lives is the way a man
His father's twenty-five to life
'cause the love of money like a knife
lights, he doesn't know which way to go
His best friend got killed two days ago
He writes his Dad the first that he ever wrote
A note, about how bad his heart was broke
the mail, could even reach his jail cell
The boy was murdered at a hotel
selling wholesale just his pop taught him
Rock bottom, a muthafuckin' cop him

(Marilyn Rylander):

We will....
you...
We will...
Have 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 grade
She in love, and now he wants to get paid
He convinced her to work at the naked
And everything she made dancing he would 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 that led to dances
It was a murder, he made sure that he really hurt her
Over dumb shit, but he had to take it
She hit the canvas, now she at Frances
Six o' clock services, feel the
Of to look at death perfectless
I'm smoking roaches the shit out my fingers

Remembering the of the Church choir singers

Third (SPM):
Mexican gangbanger

A trigger happy digger
Set tripper, wig
Itchy finger quick to upon a rival
Vida loca, another for suicidal
Same color of skin, but different color
Browns putting up in body bags
Every two or streets is a different clique
They got no love for themselves so living sick
For we been filling penitentaries
plain to see, we're our worst enemy
The smartest, most talented of the
Is all dead or time for a fuckin' Tronza
Geniuses, all dying
'cause they can't find a way to break from this
Needless to say, the gangsta I speak of
G-Love, is in a grave that he dug