Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

Convertible style, still had the heat
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 that love underground classics
Gettin more than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin wack go and merc the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off behind a tryin to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, 'em when my joints get added in
than boric acid in your project cabinet
Dirty Harriet, increase the
Leavin non-writin cats stuck on the
Mini-skirts tights, eatin lunch with whites
Leave the party over here they Israelites
Got Cali critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
Gonna rock shit down like he can't get no

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

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

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

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

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One, two, three,