Luyện nghe bài hát Suplexes Inside of Complexes and Duplexes

is madness!
This is an (echo)
As a matter of fact, this is

Yeah, sire, slap the fuck out Jon Cryer
rider, raw bust inside a vagina
Like I want kids, my head to be haunted
I burn a city down while I'm unconscious, go on
Take some quaaludes, conversate with
Batting practice with the motherfucking ghost of Babe
Do as a do, turn painful to graceful
Devil on my trails, I'm trying to find the Holy
Right
And if Mars is the that man has set his target
Then I don't know why I even
I'm sick of too nice to people who don't do shit but consume light
Told myself, "Fuck the world kid, do what you like"
Go and have a food fight, start a new life
You're too bright to be a bunch of mediocrity
But all those big words ain't gonna get you
And those ideas for sure won't get you laid
You got it in that mad house
What the fuck you got to be sad
Go ahead a rap now, do you do best, I mean
That's you do best, matter fact motherfucker
You suit vest, you need to buy a new
I you and your girl live in a duplex
I'm a put her ass in a Suplex, the sun east, the moon
You got a clue, what a clue get?

My milk & honey, my Cherie-Cherie
My Cinderella in her carriage by the
Her ruby slipper made the wizard the scarecrow
And the lion the forest
To the wicked fortress where she scorched them in the foreplay
Remember that? He said he'd fight the box to see the
When he was visited by Dorothy who came on a blizzard
Now the whole in color, still,
How Auntie Em was of kin and not her mother
Real, her face was
I suspected she migrated to up from Dearborn
And had beef with Mrs. from the very beginning of Year One
Mr. Candyman, the parabolic
The like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should strike the and then Moses should make a tablet
The Judge will bang the wood up in parliament the mallet
And yell "Hear, Hear," finally order to this rap shit
Finally some of water to soil these cracked lips
I my shit crispy and elegant,
So me with the irrelevant, the god body is heaven-sent
The hard-body is reverence, the son of Byford
Brother of Fal, rhyme's halal
Every line is kosher, livin' la loca
Shout out to Tony Toca, we like we suppose to