Luyện nghe bài hát Spraypaint & Ink Pens

Fort Minor,
Minor, Minor, Minor...

Uh, spraypaint and ink
I use to write in color I think in
To paint a picture every rhyme that I speak in
Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...

Yes, and gentlemen
We have a guest for you this evening
Ghost, you

Yo, I verbally paint pictures, I'm the hood's best
This about a young boy dealing with the fellas
Promised him the you see on TV
He ran packs town like rhyme CD's
And big chains, new clothes, and Reeboks
Stacking too much loot to in a shoe box
Saving, he his mom a crib in Atlanta
And his pops got through debt, he was a dealer
So he staged jazz, fox jump off the suit
No cross-town, now he's crossing them states and
new faces, not knowing who to trust
So when the door kicked open scream "This is a bust"
"Is it a set up?", it funny, a scuffle broke out
He got hit, dropped the cases blood out of his mouth
He walked blocks to die trying to survive
And now all left is his mom screaming "God Why?"

Uh, and ink pens
I use to write in every I think in
To paint a picture with rhyme that I speak in
Yeah, the gallery is the beat I... I... I... I...

Yeah, yeah, let me by saying "Shut the fuck up!"
Let my begin by I don't think this man knew what he had in store
He opened the door and the bag under the floor
Not a peep, working a lot, get the flame, aim, pop
Open the box and take off out the back of the shop
Scoping the lot, hoping the cops hadn't the plates on his car
He felt like he been hustling so hard a demon he pumped a cold heart
Play it cool like Humphrey Bogart, put the rings on his chain attached by both
He did the drop, one in a bag, envelope, all the money he had
Left the and the ring in a slow exhale
Two weeks went by, got a box in the
In the box was a bullet of gold
Melted down from the ring, recast with two rings and a
And he stared at it in the palm of his hand
And sat down next to a picture that sat on the
It was his wife in the on his side
the ring on the finger on the week that she died
As he in the reflection, at those eyes so red
He put the bullet in a gun and put it in his head like that

Uh, and ink pens
I use to write in every color I in
To paint a picture with every rhyme that I in
Yeah, the gallery is the beat I... I... I... I...
Uh, yeah, uh

Fiasco!

You know he didn't enough power in his thrusters to muster Warp 5
Plus if he pushed it, the fuel cells could then they would die
Then the galaxy would suffer but he he had to try
But he couldn't risk it, put the in the escape pod and kissed it
And told her goodbye, she started to cry, but he knew if he distract 'em
He could buy her some time and she make it out alive
Turn the suit around and got for the stand off
mind had blew one of the hands off
Damaged laser cannons and he got the system
And he the whole fleet, blood seeping through his teeth
The final saga in the seven planet
Unsheethed the sword and then he forward
His flashed behind the cracked cockpit glass
He let out a laugh and then all she heard was a blast

Uh, and ink pens
I use to write in color I think in
To paint a picture with every rhyme that I in
Yeah, the gallery is the then I... I... I... I...

Yeah, and gentlemen
This has been a Fort Minor
Ghostface! Fiasco!

Uh, and ink pens

It's an expression coming out of a simple can of
Look, it's the easiest way for the average kid to paint things himself as the meaning of it
You gonna get into the gallery soon, man
Why? I'm not be famous one day
Why do you always say
it's true