Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

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

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

Yo, yo, yo
We it straight to your face from the start, yo
Rage Against the Machine, it apart
Might be over your head, but 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, ALWAYS makin my
You fakin the part of gangster, til niggaz in your spot
You bitch whether I say it or not
is hot, spittin flames on the track
Put our names on the map
From now until we fadin to
Where we at? Thug rebels love clubs ghetto
the slugs let go like Frankie Beverly
Forever we stack notes the treasury, flow heavenly
Get you high on speech laced obscenity
Niggaz be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need remedy
fall the fuck off like limbs affected with leprosy

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

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

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One, two, three,