Luyện nghe bài hát Suplexes Inside of Complexes and Duplexes

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

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

My milk & honey, my Amour
My in her carriage by the doorway
Her ruby made the wizard send the scarecrow
And the lion through the
To the wicked witch's fortress where she scorched in the foreplay
Remember that? He he'd fight the box to see the wizard
When he was visited by Dorothy who came here on a
Now the world's in color, still,
How Auntie Em was of kin and not her mother
Real, her face was
I suspected she migrated to Kansas up from
And had beef with Mrs. Gulch from the very of Year One
Mr. Candyman, the parabolic
The like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should strike the stone and then Moses should a tablet
The Judge will bang the wood up in parliament with the
And yell "Hear, Hear," finally some order to rap shit
Finally some of water to soil these cracked lips
I keep my shit and elegant,
So miss me with the irrelevant, the god is heaven-sent
The is reverence, since the son of Byford
Brother of Fal, rhyme's halal
Every line is kosher, livin' la vida
out to Tony Toca, we ballin' like we suppose to