Luyện nghe bài hát Looking Down The Barrel of a Gun

I'm down the hill, snowballing, getting bigger
An in the chamber, the hammer from the trigger
I him get stabbed, I watched the blood spill out
He had more cuts my man Chuck Chillout

24 is my age, and 22 is my
I'm writing rhymes on a page, I'm off in a rage
Becuase I'm out on a mission, a stolen car
Had a small with the transmission

Three on the tree in the of the night
I have this steak on my head 'cause I got a fist fight
Life comes in phases, the good with the bad
You bought coins on the street, and you know you got had

Because it's all high spirit, you know you hear it
Don't touch the mic baby, come near it
gonna getchya, it's gonna getchya
It's gonna getchya, girl, it's getchya

Looking down the of a gun
Son of a gun, son of a
Getting paid, getting

violence be running through my head
Cold Medina, making me see red
fire Louie like Rambo got bullets
I'm gonna die harder like my kid Willis

I girlies, waxing and milking
Coordinating chicks is my man Scilkin
Predetermined is who I am
You got finger on the trigger like the Son of Sam

I am like Orange going off on the town
I've got homeboys to beat your ass down
Well I'm mad at my desk, and I be writing all curse
Expressing my aggressions through my schizophrenic verse

You're a headless chicken chasin' a sucker basin
You're looking for a fist to put your in
Get hip slip knuckle heads
Racism is schism on the tip