Luyện nghe bài hát Reheated Pop!

Buy my posthumous
My colorfully disembodied shriek
to ring tones used in car ads
Sung by winged gnomes over the head of Dick
Cover pages graced by the hard abs
Of this now charred of dead pop diva
Recreated as the head of Biz
Spliced on top of Hello
On a virtual land with a hip-kink
It's lip-synched to my song and to telecine
And the nothing left of me is left to bask in a flash

I've been so successful 'till I died
And my label my heavenly chariot
Pre-board
I die in a hail of gunfire
I died doing extreme at a resort
On a bungee on a ski jump
No need to ask how a dead rapper can be a cash cow
They just record me before on G-funk string chords
Add an R&B
Hit a keyboard key to
though I'm dead

I was on a fortnight
To exhaust notes like a cockroach
Now I'm and ate with a fork and knife
As your reheated pop

I'm framed under a reading "prog-rap"
And open-handed god smacks
By partisan zealots who not only think I draft-dodged
But that my catalog is wack
And for it I should be and smacked
But little do they know I'm dead
And complaints are small and petty
My autopsy was and shot on a webcam
I'm a dead man with golden blood in my

But my pop song climbs
And you can buy it when you shop
my lifeless body up next to the podium as I accept applause
I'm an award-winning dead
With a pending and a celebrity love interest
I signed a deal to play a starring role
The film crew doesn't even suspect I'm
I'm your own
I'm dead but don't my phone charger