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 inside a vagina
Like I want kids, my continues to be haunted
I burn a city down while I'm unconscious, go on
some quaaludes, conversate with Jesus
Batting practice with the motherfucking ghost of Babe
Do as a saint do, turn painful to
Devil on my trails, I'm trying to find the Grail
Right
And if is the farthest that man has set his target
Then I don't know why I started
I'm sick of being too 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 inside a of mediocrity
But all those big ain't gonna get you paid
And those abstract ideas for sure get you laid
You got it made in that mad
the fuck you got to be sad about?
Go ahead a rap now, do you do best, I mean
That's what you do best, matter fact
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 west
You got a clue, what does a get?

My milk & honey, my Amour
My Cinderella in her carriage by the
Her ruby slipper made the wizard the scarecrow
And the lion through the
To the wicked fortress where she scorched them in the foreplay
Remember that? He said he'd 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 next of kin and not her
Real, her face was
I she migrated to Kansas up from Dearborn
And had with Mrs. Gulch from the very beginning of Year One
Mr. Candyman, the parables
The poetry's like the poems and of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should the stone and then Moses should make a tablet
The will bang the wood up in parliament with the mallet
And yell "Hear, Hear," finally some order to 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, the son of Byford
of Fal, every rhyme's halal
Every is kosher, livin' la vida loca
Shout out to Tony Toca, we like we suppose to