Luyện nghe bài hát Psycopathic

The ghettos of america are grounds
For the criminal
As for they have killed one another of
And america has it's creation
But now these criminals
Have crossed the into your neighborhood
And soon give you a taste of the hell
That they have lived for so
So pops, this time your son gets shot
Deal your own creation
Well, been to the storm house and then some
Payed me but I'm still a street hoodlum
Dropped out of school 'cause I find my locker
Stubbles on my chin, I got hair chewbacca
Might see me sleeping on the
Don't look for a job 'cause there's no looking for me
Then it all to my head
Next, motherfuckers dead
the pigs I did it
Place at your back
And beat you in the with it
And keep your bitch in
Or I'm a send her ass home a foot print on her face
Uh, I'm sluts
them in the face, steb back and itch my nuts
I'm in the sac
'cause I so hard it'll break they back
All the packed into one nut
I was waiting on a bus and my head up
And the make ya sick
Violent j, motherfucker,

Thought you know
The icp is made up of
Demented psycho clumsy
And we'll put a hook on bumb leg
Like it nobody's business
So I'm standing by the tracks
you see me running but naked with a battle axe
I'm swinging and and chopping and cutting and..
Aah, I'm nothing
Seems like I always get beat
Like the hawk turned to the clown
Tail turned out to the 'cause
Southwest detriot is comended one's
So you might see me at a
Cussin', rude, and my testicles
With a two-liter in hand
Rapping to the bitch at the french fry
Take it to the patent
Then I'll make a remark
they're all eventually bitching
Serve me fucking your ass to the kitchen
Police don't like me it's
don't look in the trunk
Or the make you sick
Violent j, motherfucker,
(theme "halloween")
Yeah, I've always been a

I'll throw rocks at dogs
Build crackhouses out of logs
I cut class, said I was a
You was in school, I was watching green acres
Now I'm all up in your
You can barely hear the rap with all bass
I'm running with a southwest street
And I never let my southwest hang
'cause you what icp's all about
a brick off the street
And you in the mouth
Find the girl's daddy's
And his sweet little angel's my freak bitch
But I filled the up with the stuffing
Like bill say, "a bitch ain't nothing"
Grab her by the arm and
her by the life and take it
And, ya know, the sight'll ya sick
j, motherfucker, psychopathic