Luyện nghe bài hát Painkillers

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

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

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

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

And there ain't sneezin' at the money I fold
And I ain't for your pleasin', so put that shit on hold
Just your mouth shut and get me to the hotel
And turn the up while I finish this L

back to the Five Seasons Mr. Ford
Your usual is ready and waiting
Let me take your
If you need anything while you're staying let me know
lookin' out

That's for you, I hop out my car, into the lobby
Everybody's on the floor, a motherfuckin' robbery
The shit's in progress, I can feel the
I wanna silently to God how did I get in mess?

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

'Cause now standin' over me, watchin' me bleed
Damn, I got to quit smokin' all weed
There's a pain in my chest but yo, I must be
Because before I out, I saw the EMS

The paramedics, they greet me some anesthetics
They killin' my pain, they my name
Tryin' to keep me in the conscious
I'm thinkin' about my mom, my sister and my

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

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

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

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

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

To walk again, I might sell my soul
And I'm twenty somethin' years old