Luyện nghe bài hát Boombox

Raw, I'm going to it to you
no trivia
Raw like Aesop rock iron-fisted list militia
bent funny bone grown community
Spit a thousand and 1 ripples to cripple the
Tap water builds
Right I irrigate it to mainline
You want to do the Fine
These pretty profit grommet teams solidify the clot to slippery city salt pump drain
But hold those incredible console with the Russian roulette baboon
Where everyday a thousand strangers pray for empty
buckle
Five Sixths bullets trying to keep it subtle
But I'll get you (I'm to get you)
Wobbly rope
Broke inches of dry land
But duck skull stepping-stones the mix-down well
Well, when the rumor that y'all stupid
be the cat with guilty look on face and shirt that reads: I didn't do it!
Is it on, is it beyond
Does it ice grill you or is song faceless?
Does it have a title? If would you name it?
Does it babble about nothing like a drunken
We could run that '84 war
For the room 1 on 1
Till he try and fidgets with his or her own work specifics
around the cobra kisses
See if the venom this vision
I'm going to suck the out and spit it
Stole my sneakers but features never fit in
Servers you right for to walk a mile outside your limits
I'm going to tiptoe across this string
Until you walk the dog out from my feet and skip town, sit down

(Chorus)
It goes boom boom

Earth to a-r vertical burden has increased at an alarming
Bliss is a point
up, glee down and still falling
Still crawling out of bed at 2 on
this blind soldier-burning confessional
Ease back; let a thump echo normalcy for 10
Let the back burner point descend
I race the in the first heat (strike personal)
personal space with the most utterly putrid version of grace
Spit the gimmick, sit and
we try and jump through hoops
Like Coney freak show midgets
to be a fighter pilot
Driving that childish early Wright brothers
model fossil
Sit and sweat on a console
accidental dirt bike donuts
Outside the ridiculous poison tongue brain silo
Dead before the chubby debutaunt conquered the note
by the cruel intention inventions pensive sideshow
See contrary to popular
I alone advance an earthly poem
And dance on a handful of fans
every chance to own the land I roam
With in hands
Truly be its only happy with the scrap heap
See I myself it's on
it is and the melody settles
Beneath the fact that I'm just spitting for kids
I tried to get them all
And once I quit and said I didn't
Thats they all threw their hands in the air

(Chorus)
It goes boom boom