Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

Convertible style, still had the knockin
shit from way back with my man beatboxin
Shootin the breeze - see I'm nice these
be suckin it down like fast food high-see's
Type of rap bitch that love underground
Gettin more green than that nigga St.
Makin wack rappers go and the set {*dial-up 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 your project
Dirty Harriet, the fanbases
Leavin non-writin cats stuck on the
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin lunch with
the party over here like they Israelites
Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??)
Gonna rock shit down he can't get no visits

One, two, three,
Rock the whole world like the Rolling Stone
Raw wack set is faker than a bomb threat
By a nervous terrorist who's so scared his palms wet
One, two, three,
The stuff are made of, urban folklore
Like Jim Morrison we on through
Before I care 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 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 your
You straight whether I say it or not
Shit is hot, flames on the track
Put our names on the map
From now until we fadin to
Where we at? Thug rebels metal clubs ghetto
When the slugs let go like Beverly
Forever we stack notes the treasury, flow heavenly
Get you high on speech with obscenity
Niggaz be like Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then fall the fuck off like limbs affected with

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

I'm I-rate, usin body for live bait
Xzibit rockin them heavy you can't take
Dilate, cock back the weight, hate
Heavy metal we settle and set shit
Hit gates in my younger days, the policeman
Me and my clan to dance thicker than quicksand
Supply and demand the hand is quicker the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you find it to stick to your lie
I see through the tricks, the facade
little lungs is too weak to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, First Lady of the Squad
Gotta be like a young nigga walkin the yard
For the first time, we ain't the you let shine
Expect mines to blow lines like coke
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,