Luyện nghe bài hát Reheated Pop!

Buy my posthumous
My colorfully disembodied shriek
Converted to tones used in car ads
Sung by winged gnomes over the head of Clark
Cover pages graced by the chiseled abs
Of this now charred slab of dead pop
Recreated as the head of Biz
on top of Hello Kitty
On a virtual mass with a hip-kink
It's lip-synched to my song and to telecine
And the left of me is left to bask in a camera flash

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

I was booked on a
To exhaust dressed like a cockroach
Now I'm cooked and ate a fork and knife
As your pop sensation

I'm framed under a reading "prog-rap"
And given god smacks
By partisan zealots who not only think I 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 complaints are and petty
My autopsy was and shot on a webcam
I'm a dead man golden blood in my bedpan

But my pop song climbs
And you can buy it you shop online
Prop my lifeless body up next to the podium as I applause
I'm an dead dude
With a tour and a celebrity love interest
I signed a movie deal to a starring role
The crew doesn't even suspect I'm dead
I'm your own
I'm but don't unplug my phone charger