Luyện nghe bài hát Mr T vs Mr Rogers

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

Rogers]
Hi there
I hope you don't mind if I my shoes
be rocking sneakers 'till 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 like the barber gave your head a brazilian
I pity your neck, Mr. Gold chains, you've got too
The only gold I is on the shelf in my Emmys
I teach the whole full of children I can tell
You call yourself 'T' cause you're too to spell

[Mr. T]
Who you calling fool?
Mr T. needs one letter
It's for you
Bill Cosby wants his
You're a 40 year old virgin in a dumpy ass
I'll get Hannibal, Murdoch and Face to you out
The only cat you ever seen is on Henrietta, SUCKA!
And your Mr. McFeely delivers a lot more letters
So before you come to battle with your PBS
How bout I call up CPS about them on your lap, FOOL!

[Mister
Watch what you say. Kids love me more than
I'm not the one with my face on some whack ass Captain
my plan comes together you won't even see it coming
I'll chop you into four dudes and I'll remake Cool Runnings
I'll say once, Laurence. I hope it's understood
Get right back in your van and get the fuck outta my