Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

One, two, three,
Grimy bitch the bogey outside your front door (yeah)
on Goodie, eatin tuna and rye
Blow the spot with old school shit from junior high
One, two, three,
Jersey's finest in the house, and metaphors
your foul ice grill, thug grimy on the real
Puttin heads to bed like and NyQuil

Convertible style, had the heat knockin
Bumpin from way back with my man beatboxin
the breeze - see I'm nice with these
You'll be suckin it down like fast high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love underground
Gettin more green that nigga St. Patrick
wack rappers go and merc the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off a desk tryin to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my get added in
Worse than boric acid in your project
Dirty Harriet, the fanbases
Leavin non-writin cats on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin lunch with
Leave the party over here like Israelites
Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??)
Gonna rock down like he can't get no visits

One, two, three,
Rock the whole world like the Rolling tour
Raw your set is faker than a bomb threat
By a nervous who's so scared that his palms wet
One, two, three,
The stuff are made of, urban folklore
Jim Morrison we break on through
Before I care about your on me, we take on you

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it to your face from the start, yo
Rage Against the Machine, it apart
Might be over your head, but it's straight the heart
I show my love in the light while why'all in the dark
Straight to apocalypse is where I'm the art
Givin battle scars, ALWAYS makin my mark
You the part of gangster, til niggaz break in your spot
You straight whether I say it or not
Shit is hot, spittin on the track
Put our town's on the map
From now until we fadin to
Where we at? Thug rebels metal clubs ghetto
When the slugs let go like Frankie
Forever we stack notes like the treasury, heavenly
Get you high on laced with obscenity
be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then fall the fuck off like limbs affected with

One, two, three,
Why the fuck MC's MC no more?
Hardcore til put me under the ground
With a dick in your ear, still couldn't fuck with my
One, two, three,
me straight to the weed spot, then to the liquor sto'
"Gimme Some Mo'" like Busta Bus', who do you
Swingin through, your neighborhood lush

I'm I-rate, your body for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy gems you take
Dilate, cock back the weight, hate
Heavy metal we settle and set straight
Hit gates in my days, from the policeman
Me and my used to dance thicker than quicksand
Supply and the hand is quicker than the eye
Find chickens to fry, while you find it hard to stick to your lie
I see through the tricks, the facade
Your little is too weak to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, Lady of the Flipmode Squad
Gotta be hard like a young nigga the yard
For the time, we ain't the niggaz you let shine
Expect mines to blow like coke everytime
I'm an Alkaholik nigga so I the fifth
You at the front door bitchin because you on the list

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One, two, three,