Luyện nghe bài hát Suplexes Inside of Complexes and Duplexes

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

Yeah, sire, slap the fuck out Jon Cryer
Rough rider, raw bust inside a
Like I want kids, my 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
Devil on my trails, I'm to find the Holy Grail
Right
And if Mars is the that man has set his target
I don't know why I even started
I'm sick of being too nice to people who don't do shit but light
Told myself, "Fuck the world kid, do what you like"
Go and a food fight, start yourself a new life
You're too bright to be inside a of mediocrity
But all those big words ain't gonna get you
And abstract ideas for sure won't get you laid
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
That's what you do best, fact motherfucker
You suit vest, you need to buy a new
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 the wizard send the scarecrow
And the lion the forest
To the wicked witch's fortress where she scorched them in the
Remember that? He he'd fight the box to see the wizard
When he was visited by Dorothy who here on a blizzard
Now the whole in color, still,
How Auntie Em was next of kin and not her
Real, her was care-worn
I suspected she migrated to Kansas up Dearborn
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 strike the stone and then should make a tablet
The will bang the wood up in parliament with the mallet
And yell "Hear, Hear," finally some to this rap shit
Finally some of water to soil these cracked lips
I keep my crispy and elegant,
So miss me with the irrelevant, the god body is
The hard-body is reverence, the son of Byford
Brother of Fal, every rhyme's
Every is kosher, livin' la vida loca
Shout out to Tony Toca, we ballin' we suppose to