Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's
One, two, three,