Luyện nghe bài hát Reheated Pop!

Buy my posthumous
My colorfully disembodied shriek
Converted to ring tones in car ads
Sung by winged gnomes over the head of Dick
pages graced by the chiseled hard abs
Of this now charred slab of pop diva
as the head of Biz Mark
Spliced on top of Hello
On a land mass 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 camera

I've never been so successful 'till I
And my wished my heavenly chariot
defunct
I didn't die in a of gunfire
I died doing extreme at a resort
On a bungee on a ski jump
No to ask how a dead rapper can be a label's cash cow
They just record me months on G-funk string chords
Add an R&B
Hit a key to punch
Even I'm dead

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

I'm framed a caption 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 and smacked
But do they know I'm dead already
And their complaints are and petty
My was broadcast and shot on a webcam
I'm a man with golden blood in my bedpan

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 tour pending and a celebrity love
I signed a movie deal to play a role
The film crew doesn't even I'm dead
I'm your own
I'm dead but don't unplug my phone