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/ Marilyn

Verse (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 to stop and chill
'cause in his heart he knows that God is real
still tries, to open his eyes
'cause the way a man lives is the way a man
His doing twenty-five to life
'cause the of money cuts like a knife
Blinding lights, he doesn't which way to go
His best friend got killed two days ago
He writes his Dad the first letter that he ever
A little note, how bad his heart was broke
Before the mail, could even his jail cell
The boy was murdered at a neighborhood
selling just like his pop taught him
bottom, a muthafuckin' 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....

Second (SPM):

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

Remembering the words of the Church singers

Third (SPM):
Another Mexican

A trigger ditch digger
Set tripper, wig
Itchy finger to blast upon a rival
loca, another word for suicidal
Same of skin, but different color rags
Browns browns up in body bags
Every two or three streets is a different
They got no love for themselves so living sick
For centuries we been filling
It's to see, we're our worst enemy
The smartest, most talented of the
Is all or doing time for a fuckin' Tronza
Geniuses, all meaningless
'cause they can't a way to break free from this
Needless to say, the that I speak of
G-Love, is in a grave that he dug