Luyện nghe bài hát Spraypaint & Ink Pens

Fort Minor,
Minor, Minor, Minor...

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 is the beat then I... I... I... I...

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

Yo, I verbally paint pictures, I'm the best storyteller
This about a young boy dealing with the fellas
him the lives you see on TV
He ran packs town like rhyme CD's
And big chains, new clothes, Nikes and
Stacking too much loot to in a shoe box
Saving, he his mom a crib in Atlanta
And his got killed through debt, he was a dealer
So he staged jazz, fox off the suit cases
No more cross-town, now he's crossing states 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 broke out
He got hit, the cases spitting blood out of his mouth
He four blocks to die trying to survive
And now all that's is his mom screaming "God Why?"

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

Yeah, yeah, let me begin by "Shut the fuck up!"
Let my begin by saying I don't this man knew what he had in store
He opened the and found the bag under the floor
Not a peep, always a lot, get the flame, aim, pop
Open the box and take off out the back of the pawn
Scoping the lot, hoping the cops hadn't seen the on his car
He felt like he been hustling so hard like a demon he pumped a heart
Play it cool like Humphrey Bogart, put the rings on his chain attached by parts
He did the drop, one ring in a bag, envelope, all the he had
Left the money and the in a slow exhale
Two weeks went by, got a box in the
In the box was a bullet made of
Melted down from the ring, with two rings and a band
And he at it sitting in the palm of his hand
And sat down to a picture that sat on the nightstand
It was his wife in the on his side
the ring on the finger on the week that 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 paint a picture with rhyme that I speak in
Yeah, the gallery is the beat I... I... I... I...
Uh, yeah, uh

Fiasco!

You know he didn't have enough power in his thrusters to Warp 5
Plus if he pushed it, the fuel cells rupture 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 could 'em
He could buy her some time and she make it out alive
Turn the around and got prepared for the stand off
mind 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 final in the seven planet wars
Unsheethed the sword and he charged forward
His flashed behind the cracked cockpit glass
He let out a and then all she heard was a blast like

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

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

Uh, spraypaint and ink

It's an coming out of a simple 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 it's