Luyện nghe bài hát Painkillers

On behalf of Pan Am Airlines, we'd to be the first
To welcome you to New York
We'd like to thank you for Pan Am
The local time is 6:45 a.m. and the is 89 degrees

I've been up all night on the redeye
The early light, got the skyline bright
I'm in the of a car service
My driver's of nervous

'Cause I'm tokin' on a blunt fat
You say, you know you at
I say, I know I am
And if you really want a tip then mister get flam

I ain't tryin' to be rude and I ain't you gramps
But this shit right here, it be the breakfast of
I've been tokin' on this thirteen years old
And when I up at my wall, I see platinum and gold

And there ain't nobody sneezin' at the money I
And I here for your pleasin', so put that shit on hold
Just keep mouth shut and get me to the hotel
And the radio up while I finish this L

Welcome back to the Seasons Mr. Ford
Your usual room is ready and
Let me your luggage
If you need anything you're staying just let me know
Good out

That's for you, I hop out my car, step into the
Everybody's on the floor, it's a motherfuckin'
The in progress, I can feel the stress
I wanna silently to God how did I get in this

They tell me to freeze and get down on my
Between my jewels and my cash, I'm thirty five G's
told me to run it, so I got bold and I fronted
And like Slick said, I knew, I shouldn't of done it

'Cause now they standin' me, watchin' me bleed
Damn, I got to quit smokin' all this
There's a in my chest but yo, I must be blessed
Because I faded out, I saw the EMS

The paramedics, they greet me with some
killin' my pain, they screamin' my name
Tryin' to keep me in the world
I'm thinkin' my mom, my sister and my girl

I'm to God don't let this go too far
As they rush me into the St. O.R.
They pull the out my chest and give 'em back in a jar
Now, I'm wearin' this 'cause I tried to play hard

Mr. Ford, I'm afraid, I some bad news for you
are you talkin' about?
It would appear that one of the bullets grazed spine
And the cord
So what are you to tell me?
Well, safe to say, I don't think, you'll be jumpin' around anymore

Yo, this can't happen to me, I just believe it
in a wheelchair, a paraplegic
There ain't no rehab, there no therapy
For the rest of my life somebody's gotta care of me

And people stare at me pity in their eyes
And mornin' I rise to a life of despise
And every night I think, I never rock the mic again
'Cause my brain's fucked up on percacet and

as well be heroin pulsin' through my veins
Gotta these pains or blow out my brains
To free me from chains
I'm trapped in this hell

To walk again, I just might sell my
And I'm only twenty years old