Luyện nghe bài hát Spraypaint & Ink Pens

Fort Minor,
Minor, Minor, Minor...

Uh, and ink pens
I use to write in every color I in
To paint a picture with every rhyme I speak in
Yeah, the gallery is the then I... I... I... I...

Yes, and gentlemen
We a special guest for you this evening
Ghost, you

Yo, I verbally paint pictures, I'm the hood's best
This about a young boy dealing with the older
him the lives you see on TV
He ran packs across like rhyme CD's
And big chains, new clothes, and Reeboks
Stacking too loot to squeeze in a shoe box
Saving, he promised his mom a crib in
And his pops got killed through debt, he was a
So he staged jazz, fox off the suit cases
No more cross-town, now he's crossing states and
Seeing new faces, not knowing who to
So the door kicked open they scream "This is a bust"
"Is it a set up?", it seems funny, a scuffle out
He got hit, dropped the spitting blood out of his mouth
He walked four blocks to die to survive
And now all that's is his mom screaming "God Why?"

Uh, and ink pens
I use to write in color I think in
To paint a picture with every rhyme that I in
Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...

Yeah, yeah, let me by saying "Shut the fuck up!"
Let my begin by saying I think this man knew what he had in store
He opened the door and found the bag the floor
Not a peep, always a lot, get the flame, aim, pop
Open the box and take off out the back of the shop
Scoping the lot, hoping the cops seen the plates on his car
He felt like he been hustling so like a demon he pumped a cold heart
Play it cool like Humphrey Bogart, put the rings on his chain attached by parts
He did the drop, one ring in a bag, envelope, all the he had
the money and the ring in a slow exhale
Two went by, got a box in the mail
In the box was a made of gold
Melted from the ring, recast with two rings and a band
And he stared at it sitting in the palm of his
And sat down next to a picture sat on the nightstand
It was his wife in the picture on his
With the ring on the finger on the week she died
As he in the reflection, at those eyes so red
He put the bullet in a gun and put it in his head like that

Uh, spraypaint and ink
I use to write in every color I in
To paint a picture every rhyme that I speak in
Yeah, the gallery is the beat I... I... I... I...
Uh, yeah, uh

Fiasco!

You know he didn't enough power in his thrusters to muster Warp 5
Plus if he pushed it, the fuel cells could rupture then they die
the galaxy would suffer but he knew he had to try
But he couldn't risk it, put the in the escape pod and kissed it
And told her goodbye, she started to cry, but he if he could distract 'em
He could buy her some time and she could make it out
the suit around and got prepared for the stand off
Space mind had blew one of the off
Damaged laser cannons and he got the system
And he faced the fleet, blood seeping through his teeth
The saga in the seven planet wars
Unsheethed the sword and he charged forward
His eyes behind the cracked cockpit glass
He let out a laugh and then all she heard was a blast

Uh, and ink pens
I use to in every color I think in
To paint a picture with every that I speak in
Yeah, the is the beat then I... I... I... I...

Yeah, ladies and
This has been a Fort Minor
Ghostface! Fiasco!

Uh, and ink pens

It's an expression coming out of a simple can of
Look, the easiest way for the average kid to paint things using himself as the meaning of it
You get into the gallery there soon, man
Why? I'm not be famous one day
Why do you say that?
Cause true