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Hello! I'm Lyrkit!

I tried many ways to memorize English words and found the most effective one for me!

We already have all the words of the songs that we have heard throughout our lives in our memory. We simply did not pay attention to them, but we all already hear them!

I noticed that when you learn a new word from a song that you have already heard before, you already know the translation of this word forever and you will never forget it!

I want to share this method with you. So, the scheme is as follows.

We find songs that we have already heard.

We add all unfamiliar words from them.

We pass mini tests of memory games. done

Now that you know a lot of words, you will very quickly come to know the whole language!

I bet you'll be surprised how effective this method is!)

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Body Count

Body Count

 

Body Count

(album: Body Count - 1992)


You know sometimes I sit at home, you know,
and I watch T.V. and I wonder what it would be like
to live someplace like, you know, the Cosby show,
Ozzie and Harriet, you know, where
cops come and got your cat outta the tree
all your friends died of old age,
But you see, I live in South Central Los Angeles and unfortunately...
SHIT AIN'T LIKE THAT! IT'S REAL FUCKED UP!

Goddamn what a brotha gotta do
to get a message through
to the red, white and blue?
What I gotta die
before you realize
I was a brotha with open eyes?
The world's insane
while you drink champagne
and I'm living in black rain.
You try to ban the A.K.,
I got ten of 'em stashed
with a case of hand grenades.

Tell us what to do... Fuck you!
Tell us what to do... Fuck you!
Tell us what to do... Fuck you!
Tell us what to do... Fuck you!

You know what you'd do
if a kid got killed on the way to school
or a cop shot your kid in the backyard.
Shit would hit the fan, muthafucka
and it would hit real hard.
I hear it every night, another gunfight,
the tension mounts,
on with the Body Count.

Yo, Beatmaster, take these muthafuckas
to South Central.

Ha ha.
Yeah
Fuck that.

I hear it every night,
another gunfight,
the tension mounts,
on with the Body Count.

Last weekend thirty-seven kids killed in gang warfare,
in my backyard.

No!
No!
No!

Yo, Ernie C., take these muthafuckas home.

Yeah.

Yeah, we in the house, Body Count fools, 1991 muthafuckas.

I hear it every night,
another gunfight,
the tension mounts,

on with the Body Count.

Goddamn what a brotha gotta do
to get a message through
to the red, white and you?
What I gotta die before you realize
I was a nigga with open eyes?
The world's insane
while you drink champagne
and I'm living in black rain,
don't you hear the guns
you stupid, dumb, dick sucking, bum politicians.

Tell us what to do... Fuck you!
Tell us what to do... Fuck you!
The tension mounts...

done

Did you add all the unfamiliar words from this song?