Luyện nghe bài hát Suplexes Inside of Complexes and Duplexes

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

Yeah, young sire, the fuck out Jon Cryer
Rough rider, raw inside a vagina
Like I kids, my head continues to be haunted
I burn a city down I'm unconscious, baby go on
Take quaaludes, conversate with Jesus
Batting practice the motherfucking ghost of Babe Ruth
Do as a saint do, turn painful to
on my trails, I'm trying to find the Holy Grail
Right
And if Mars is the farthest that man has set his
Then I know why I even started
I'm sick of being too nice to who don't do shit but consume light
Told myself, "Fuck the kid, just do what you like"
Go and have a fight, start yourself a new life
You're too bright to be inside a bunch of
But all big words ain't gonna get you paid
And those ideas for sure won't get you laid
You got it made in that mad
the fuck you got to be sad about?
Go a rap now, do what you do best, I mean
That's what you do best, fact motherfucker
You suit vest, you to buy a new dress
I heard you and your girl live in a
I'm a put her ass in a Suplex, the sun east, the west
You got a clue, what does a get?

My milk & honey, my Amour
My Cinderella in her by the doorway
Her ruby slipper made the send the scarecrow
And the lion through the
To the wicked witch's fortress where she them in the foreplay
Remember that? He said he'd the box to see the wizard
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 Mrs. Gulch from the very beginning of Year One
Mr. Candyman, the parabolic
The like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should the stone and then Moses should make a tablet
The Judge bang the wood up in parliament with the mallet
And yell "Hear, Hear," finally some order to this rap
Finally some sort of water to soil these cracked
I my shit crispy and elegant,
So me with the irrelevant, the god body is heaven-sent
The is reverence, since the son of Byford
Brother of Fal, rhyme's halal
Every line is kosher, livin' la loca
Shout out to Tony Toca, we ballin' we suppose to