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
rider, raw bust inside a vagina
Like I kids, my head continues to be haunted
I burn a city while I'm unconscious, baby go on
some quaaludes, conversate with Jesus
Batting practice with the motherfucking ghost of Babe
Do as a saint do, painful to graceful
on my trails, I'm trying to find the Holy Grail
Right
And if Mars is the farthest man has set his target
I don't know why I even started
I'm sick of too nice to people who don't do shit but consume light
myself, "Fuck the world kid, just do what you like"
Go and have a food fight, start yourself a new
You're too bright to be inside a of mediocrity
But all those big words ain't get you paid
And those abstract for sure won't get you laid
You got it in that mad house
What the fuck you got to be sad
Go a rap now, do what you do best, I mean
That's what you do best, 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 west
You got a clue, what does a clue

My milk & honey, my Cherie-Cherie
My in her carriage by the doorway
Her ruby slipper made the wizard send the
And the lion the forest
To the wicked witch's fortress where she scorched 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 Em was next of kin and not her mother
Real, her was care-worn
I suspected she migrated to Kansas up from
And had beef with Mrs. from the very beginning of Year One
Mr. Candyman, the parables
The like the poems and songs of Ecclesiastes
Lightning should the stone 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
some sort 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 is kosher, livin' la vida loca
Shout out to Tony Toca, we ballin' we suppose to