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 school shit from high
One, two, three,
Jersey's in the house, punchlines and metaphors
Make your foul ice grill, thug on the real
Puttin to bed like Hennessey and NyQuil

Convertible style, still had the knockin
Bumpin shit from way back my man beatboxin
Shootin the - see I'm nice with these
You'll be suckin it like fast food high-see's
Type of rap bitch love underground classics
more green than 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, kill 'em my joints get added in
Worse than boric acid in project cabinet
Harriet, increase the fanbases
Leavin non-writin stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin with whites
Leave the party over here like they
Got Cali Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??)
Gonna rock shit down like he get no visits

One, two, three,
Rock the whole like the Rolling Stone tour
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 legends are of, urban folklore
Like Jim Morrison we on through
Before I care about your take on me, we on you

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it to your face from the start, yo
Rage the Machine, break it apart
Might be your head, but it's straight from the heart
I show my love in the light 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 break in your spot
You bitch whether I say it or not
is hot, spittin flames on the track
Put our town's on the map
From now until we fadin to
Where we at? Thug rebels metal clubs ghetto
the slugs let go like Frankie Beverly
Forever we stack notes like the treasury, flow
Get you high on laced with obscenity
Niggaz be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need remedy
Then fall the fuck off limbs affected with leprosy

One, two, three,
Why the fuck MC's MC no more?
Hardcore til somebody put me under the
With a dick in your ear, still fuck with my sound
One, two, three,
Takin me to the weed spot, then to the liquor sto'
"Gimme Some Mo'" like Busta Bus', who do you
through, your favorite neighborhood lush

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

It's
One, two, three,