Luyện nghe bài hát Mr T vs Mr Rogers

[Mr. T]
I pity the who tries to step to Clubber Lang
Call me BA biceps cause crush your whole gang
Bring Tuesday, Friday and little Trolly the
And watch me dip their ass in
And wear 'em like my neck — SUCKA!
I'll choke you with your own sleeves
You even beat me in the land of make believe. PUNK!
I will Mr. T bag you, in the cemetery
Nobody's miss you cause all your friends imaginary

Rogers]
Hi neighbor
I you don't mind if I change my shoes
I'll be rocking sneakers this battle's over
So I don't get blood from your face on my penny loafers
I like you just the way you are, one in a million, but it looks the barber gave your head a brazilian
I your neck, Mr. Gold chains, you've got too many
The only gold I is on the shelf in my Emmys
I teach the world full of children I can tell
You call yourself 'T' cause too dumb to spell

[Mr. T]
Who you dumb fool?
Mr T. only needs one
Hello? for you
Bill Cosby his sweater
a 40 year old virgin in a dumpy ass house
I'll get Hannibal, and Face to stomp you out
The only pussy cat you ever is on Henrietta, SUCKA!
And your Mr. McFeely a lot more than letters
So you come to battle with your PBS crap
How bout I call up CPS about them kids on lap, FOOL!

Rogers]
Watch what you say. love me more than lunch
I'm not the one with my on some whack ass Captain Crunch
When my plan comes together you won't even see it
I'll chop you into black dudes and I'll remake Cool Runnings
I'll say this once, Laurence. I hope it's
Get right in your van and get the fuck outta my neighborhood