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, slap the out Jon Cryer
Rough rider, raw bust inside a
Like I want kids, my head continues to be
I burn a city while I'm unconscious, baby go on
Take some quaaludes, conversate with
Batting with the motherfucking ghost of Babe Ruth
Do as a saint do, turn to graceful
Devil on my trails, I'm trying to find the Grail
Right
And if Mars is the farthest man has set his target
Then I don't know why I even
I'm sick of being too nice to people who don't do but consume light
Told myself, "Fuck the world kid, just do you like"
Go and have a food fight, start yourself a new
too bright to be inside a bunch of mediocrity
But all big words ain't gonna get you paid
And those abstract ideas for sure won't get you
You got it in that mad house
What the you got to be sad about?
Go ahead a rap now, do you do best, I mean
what you do best, matter fact motherfucker
You vest, you need to buy a new dress
I heard you and girl 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 slipper made the send the scarecrow
And the lion the forest
To the wicked witch's fortress she scorched them in the foreplay
that? He said he'd fight 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 was care-worn
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 poetry's like the and songs of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should strike the stone and Moses should make a tablet
The Judge will the wood up in parliament with the mallet
And "Hear, Hear," finally some order to this rap shit
Finally sort of water to soil these cracked lips
I keep my crispy and elegant,
So me with the irrelevant, the god body is heaven-sent
The hard-body is reverence, since the son of
Brother of Fal, every rhyme's
Every is kosher, livin' la vida loca
out to Tony Toca, we ballin' like we suppose to