Luyện nghe bài hát Down for The Count

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

Convertible style, still had the knockin
Bumpin from way back with my man beatboxin
the breeze - 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 merc the set {*dial-up
Better off a desk tryin to surf the net
I be adamant, kill 'em when my joints get added in
Worse boric acid in your project cabinet
Dirty Harriet, increase the
non-writin cats stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts tights, eatin lunch with whites
Leave the party over here they Israelites
Got Cali critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
Gonna rock down like he can't get no visits

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

Yo, yo, yo
We bring it straight to face from the start, yo
Against the Machine, break it apart
Might be over your head, but it's from the heart
I show my in the light while why'all hate in the dark
Straight to apocalypse is I'm takin the art
Givin niggaz battle scars, ALWAYS makin my
You fakin the part of gangster, til niggaz break in your
You bitch whether I say it or not
Shit is hot, spittin on the track
Put our names on the map
now until we fadin to black
Where we at? Thug rebels love metal ghetto
When the let go like Frankie Beverly
Forever we stack like the treasury, flow heavenly
Get you high on speech laced with
be gassed like Cipher Sounds, and need rescue remedy
Then fall the fuck off limbs affected with leprosy

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

I'm I-rate, your body for live bait
Xzibit them heavy gems you can't take
Dilate, back the weight, spread hate
Heavy metal we and set shit straight
Hit in my younger days, from the policeman
Me and my used to dance thicker than quicksand
Supply and demand the hand is than the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you find it hard to stick to lie
I see through the tricks, destroy the
Your little lungs is too weak to hotbox God
Rah Digga, Lady of the Flipmode Squad
Gotta be hard like a nigga walkin the yard
For the time, we ain't the niggaz you let shine
Expect mines to blow lines like coke
I'm an nigga so I finish the fifth
You at the door bitchin because you ain't on the list

It's
One, two, three,