Luyện nghe bài hát Reheated Pop!

Buy my full-length
My colorfully disembodied shriek
to ring tones used in car ads
Sung by winged gnomes the head of Dick Clark
Cover pages graced by the hard abs
Of this now slab of dead pop diva
Recreated as the head of Biz
Spliced on top of Kitty
On a land mass with a hip-kink
It's to my song and committed to telecine
And the nothing of me is left to bask in a camera flash

I've never been so successful 'till I
And my label wished my heavenly
Pre-board
I die in a hail of gunfire
I died extreme sports at a resort
On a cord 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 keyboard key to
though I'm dead

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

I'm under a caption reading "prog-rap"
And given open-handed god
By partisan who not only think I draft-dodged Iraq
But that my back is wack
And for it I should be and smacked
But little do they know I'm dead
And their complaints are small and
My autopsy was broadcast and shot on a
I'm a dead man golden blood in my bedpan

But still my pop song
And you can buy it when you shop
Prop my lifeless body up next to the as I accept applause
I'm an dead dude
With a tour pending and a celebrity love
I a movie deal to play a starring role
The film crew doesn't even I'm dead
I'm own martyr
I'm dead but don't unplug my phone