Luyện nghe bài hát Painkillers

On behalf of Pan Am Airlines, we'd like to be the
To you to New York City
We'd like to you for flying Pan Am
The local time is a.m. and the temperature is 89 degrees

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

'Cause I'm on a blunt that's fat
You say, you know you at
I say, I know I am
And if you really a tip then mister don't get flam

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

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

Welcome back to the Five Mr. Ford
Your usual is ready and waiting
Let me take luggage
If you anything while 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 to God how did I get in this mess?

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

now they standin' over me, watchin' me bleed
Damn, I got to quit smokin' all this
a pain in my chest but yo, I must be blessed
Because I faded 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 world
I'm thinkin' about my mom, my sister and my

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

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

Yo, this can't happen to me, I 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 at me with pity in their eyes
And every mornin' I rise to a of despise
And every night I think, I might never rock the mic
my brain's fucked up on percacet and vicadin

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

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