Luyện nghe bài hát Reheated Pop!

Buy my posthumous
My colorfully disembodied shriek
to ring tones used in car ads
Sung by winged over the head of Dick Clark
Cover pages graced by the hard abs
Of this now charred slab of pop diva
Recreated as the of Biz Mark
Spliced on top of Hello
On a virtual land with a hip-kink
It's lip-synched to my song and committed to
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 didn't die in a hail of
I died doing sports at a resort
On a cord on a ski jump
No need to ask how a rapper can be a label's cash cow
They just record me before on G-funk string chords
Add an R&B
Hit a keyboard key to
Even though I'm

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

I'm framed under a reading "prog-rap"
And given god smacks
By partisan who not only think I draft-dodged Iraq
But my back catalog is wack
And for it I should be flogged and
But little do they I'm dead already
And their are small and petty
My was broadcast and shot on a webcam
I'm a dead man with blood in my bedpan

But still my pop climbs
And you can buy it when you online
Prop my lifeless body up to the podium as I accept applause
I'm an dead dude
With a tour pending and a celebrity love
I signed a deal to play a starring role
The film doesn't even suspect I'm dead
I'm your own
I'm dead but don't unplug my phone