Luyện nghe bài hát Vultures

You wait for death to happen, you up bloody wrecks
you con the elderly up out they pension checks
you 'em when theyre down, you tell 'em god is coming
you work the lonely souls, 800 numbers
You sell what you reposes, you clean 'em out nests
you wait for them to try to rest and yank it out they
You sell them medicine you make them think they
you come around the flowers but a dirty weed.

Like serpents and snakes, they rattle bite
whatever it they get what they like
always fake and go where they like
money they make it and gone in the night
and make no mistake, do got a heart
it's blacker coal and hard as a rock
dont or shake when they take a part
and it apart who swim with the sharks.

(chorus)
at the eyes, pick at the brains
because youre sick and deranged.
Cause a vulture a wicked vulture!
Pick at the pick at the soul
Pick 'em and drag 'em down your hole
Cause a vulture a wicked vulture!

You cut the fingers off if theres a still on 'em
even if they come in cursed, you want 'em
You big things is headed for next year
but you disappear as soon as the checks clear
you out at the poor and tell 'em to give you more
Sell everything off for the church, sleep on the
you the juiciest necks out to all the vampires
but lurking in the you might get bit by spiders.

Lizards and bugs, and mosquitoes,
hookers drugs and dirty ass needles,
alley way cats, and rats,
killers with gats attack you bats
scums, bums as anything comes and goes
they mix with tons of hoes, dirty like all of
I suppose cause wicked is the way that chose.

(chorus)

(Skit)
Go away Doc/ Leave him alone/ When will he die?/ I'll be at home/ Who gets his car?/ Who gets the crib?/ Those are his pills?/ I'm poppin' the lid/ I give him a week/ What do I get?/ Put me in his will/ He's moving again/ Sign it like him/ Cut off that beep/ There go his morphine/ That shit is sweet/ Give me a hit!/ The preacher called/ He's tryin' to get paid/ Who's feeding his dog?/ Fuck that dog!/ It's beepin again!/ Whoa, that morphine's kickin' in/ What about his He wants the church to have it/ How long til he dies?/ Let's check his wallet/ Lets pull the plug/ Do you think he can hear?/ He's fuckin' dyin'/ He doesn't care/

Like serpents and snakes, rattle they bite
whatever it takes they get they like
and they gonna hide, and gonna run
but they gonna suffer some fun
and make no mistake they do got a
blacker than coal and hard as a rock
they gonna visit the clowns
and gonna parish We promise you now.

(chorus X2)