Luyện nghe bài hát Spraypaint & Ink Pens

Fort Minor,
Minor, Minor, Minor...

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

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

Yo, I verbally pictures, I'm the hood's best storyteller
This about a young boy dealing the older fellas
Promised him the you see on TV
He ran packs across town like CD's
And big chains, new clothes, Nikes and
Stacking too much loot to squeeze in a box
Saving, he promised his mom a in Atlanta
And his pops got through debt, he was a dealer
So he jazz, fox jump off the suit cases
No more cross-town, now he's crossing them and
new faces, not knowing who to trust
So when the kicked open they scream "This is a bust"
"Is it a set up?", it seems funny, a scuffle out
He got hit, dropped the spitting blood out of his mouth
He walked four blocks to die trying to
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 every rhyme that I speak in
Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...

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

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

Fiasco!

You he didn't have enough power in his thrusters to muster Warp 5
Plus if he pushed it, the cells could rupture then they would die
Then the would suffer but he knew 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 could 'em
He could buy her some time and she could make it out
Turn the suit and got prepared for the stand off
Space had blew one of the hands off
Damaged laser cannons and he got the system
And he faced the whole fleet, seeping through his teeth
The saga in the seven planet wars
the sword and then he charged forward
His eyes flashed the cracked cockpit glass
He let out a laugh and then all she heard was a like

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

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

Uh, spraypaint and ink

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