Luyện nghe bài hát Valentine's Day Massacre

[Mad

slightly borderline psychotic
sensational recreational
I thought I it but I found it
temptation marches along I'm surrounded
by fire the sensual illusion
caught between the crossfire anger and
howl at the moon black blanket that's
im romantic plowing through tramps and harlots madchild prevails tails of the unwanted
not to be taken for
my past has back and haunted for real
I've all ready with death. a dozen black roses
I with babies breath
be a place where magic is made
rain on your parade with silver razor blades
I'm creepin over the fence crawlin through your back
my mind states
savage on the rocks with a twist
now and shake your fists
dreams are made of this

[Thirdrail

for real the opposite telepathic
Roamin' the flats with and back packs
Doin' jacks for Big Macs, accumulatin' stacks to G's Nigga please, you artificial

You somethin', it's your heart
An' it's pumpin', pumpin' you from this existence
It seems to be absolutely mandatory, 'cause you be skin
But no way, you fake I can trace out your image
Even you don't cast one, I smell a rat, I'm smellin' that
Stay back at 150 inches,
You brew tea? an I you know I can sense it
With the nostrils mixed with 6 hostile stenches
Henceforth the elbow swings dinging, we bring whip to bleed
Swingin' sleep out your
How you been hibernatin'? Too long!
You're abiding and a felon, to switch your melon
grammar like a judges hammer
I feel you mark, feel me your chart
You gotta be an you gotta to have heart
You gotta to be real an you to have heart

Stir the blur, nuts and bolts
Stored in electric ports, 4 strong boxes of 10
Shift the weight towards the door, in hopes of
When hands on cord, the roof Prev creates
break, concord, eye of the condor
Hand skills of a saboteur, in for
A war that pours of molten into cords
Strung by the young ones, put me on
No folk lore horsemen for poison, pour in pores

Nous]

Soft rhymers, metamorphize cartoon characters
Grafted from Africa, in this game you got no
Not even a factor in
Whole makes me yawn
Snatch your out your chest like a '96 ghetto spawn
Antonym of urban, too for this cut-throat mentality
? thoughts in my area, you get snatched out your Suburban
Fallacy with no antidote, in ? your age get broke
Runnin' from gun smoke, ballin' rumin'
Silver spoons crumbin' flavour
Soon there be no overseer to save ya
I delve, tell your podiatrist it's a size 12
National ? Soldiers, a swine
A snake no spine, I'll see you, I peeped you
see blue, the fake:
A quick death is your
Now, I got to do