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

Convertible style, had the heat knockin
Bumpin from way back with my man beatboxin
the breeze - see I'm nice with these
You'll be it down like fast food high-see's
Type of rap that love underground classics
Gettin green than that nigga St. Patrick
Makin wack go and merc the set {*dial-up sounds*}
Better off a desk tryin to surf the net
Cause I be adamant, kill 'em when my get added in
Worse than boric acid in project cabinet
Harriet, increase the fanbases
Leavin cats stuck on the plantations
Mini-skirts with tights, eatin lunch with
Leave the party here like they Israelites
Got Brooks critics, Ta' Kwe'(??) Xzibit
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 that his wet
One, two, three,
The stuff legends are of, urban folklore
Jim Morrison we break on through
Before I care about take on me, we take on you

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

One, two, three,
Why the fuck MC's MC no more?
Hardcore til somebody put me 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 Busta Bus', who do you
Swingin through, your favorite lush

I'm I-rate, usin your body for bait
Xzibit rockin heavy gems you can't take
Dilate, cock back the weight, spread
metal we settle and set shit straight
Hit in my younger days, from the policeman
Me and my clan used to thicker than quicksand
Supply and demand the hand is than the eye
Find some chickens to fry, while you find it hard to to your lie
I see through the tricks, destroy the
little lungs is too weak to hotbox with God
Rah Digga, First Lady of the Flipmode
Gotta be hard like a young 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 bitchin because you ain't on the list

It's
One, two, three,