Luyện nghe bài hát Radio Stars

{Occasionally, the temptation to reach
The pinnacle of the pop music genre, will reduce
The most deplorable examples of the music scene
To attempt to change their so-called artistic
In a vain attempt to appeal to the at large
Behold, the

Uh, fuck platinum, just ain't enough
We need more money, houses and cars and stuff
I'm sick of juggalos, I want them other
I them shitty hoes, you get with radio and videos
We'll do whatever it takes to get some air
We'll make that shit, triple our sales and pay
Yeah, come on Shaggy, What? Follow my lead, go
It's we change our shit up to get what we need, come on

Uh, play
Yo! yo! on and ride me, ride me
Pull, pull! Come on and hide me, me
Cat black, I'm gonna one, gold one
Club cat, you want them old ones, old
Black, black, look at that lady go, go
Look at me, I'm on the radio,
Cut, cut, we throw it away, throw it away
Give up, give us the radio play, radio

What? hey! what? what? what? hey!
what? hey
What? hey! what? what? hey! what?
what? hey

{The pathetic attempts never
The moronic musical continues to insult
The intelligence of the consumer
How much more can an audience be to endure?}

work, ah fuck, what happened?
They always told us that we sucked at
Well I don't how to play a guitar
I'll play the skin flute to be a star
I'm of keeping it real, and underground
I want the ten millions fans sell out radio sound
Even though we'll be played next
Show me a dick, and I'll show you a Hummer
we go, oh my God

Joey fell in love with a college
She had a backpack and a pony
She said her name was but I do not know
She drinks lemonade and cherry jello
I can put my Buddy Holly on
I can even sing one of these songs
I can wear pants and never smile
Whatever's cool for your dial
Toby fell in love a college

borish, bumbling buffoons are baffled in their journey
Through the music
sonnet is more ridiculous than the last
Their strides towards musical
Are more than a stumble into complete failure}

That was bullshit, what the fuck? You think of
I'm sitting here trying to write hits, your nothing
You the crump shit, but did it work? No
It on its ass, at least I tried though
Alright, ain't no need to be fighting each other
We need to start talking about relationships and lovers.
Can you sing? No, can I
If gonna be radio stars, we at least gotta try

Remix, uh, remix, clown boy, uh, me
Touch me, boy, remix, uh
Girl, I let you know, on radio
I wanna lick you from to toe
Girl, your perfume, it's smelling so
I wanna make love, between the

Girl, play my song, I'm on the phone long
I'm a man, and I know that I can't sing, yes I can
Give me one chance, and I'll make you dance
Girl, we make radio songs, for radio fans, we go wrong
Girl, we radio songs, for radio fans, we can't go wrong
Girl, we make songs, for radio fans, we can't go wrong
Girl, we make radio songs, for radio fans, we can't go
Girl, so you fucked my boy, I don't a fuck

{After years of endless attempts, ICP received no radio play
Finally the two dim witted
Decided to stay with the wicked shit for