Luyện nghe bài hát Freestyle - Busta Rhymes & Flipmode Squad

[Busta
Mode, Funk Flex Volume 3!

It's like of the stars, spittin' bars
Foreign cars, never been to
I'm the of Oz, down to the yellow brick road
Flip Mode! Yo, we got shit blowed
98 an' the gold
I'm a dissector, 15 on the
Yo they owe me at Elektra
Don't let the Ramp wretch ya, catch ya
My squad the pressure, new trend setter
Watch me get this cheddar, my is gettin' better, WHA!

Sham]
Let me find out niggaz poppin' shit from the
Post-ponin' some two macs spittin' from the holsters
You this 'cause you chose this
I split wigs like the ocean, respect
More clips to spit, Mode runnin' this shit
So bounce to this, on wrist
My platinum half wit' sin
See me in the club by the bulgin' in
Rockin' the lin, my waves spin tight, dark
Baby spittin' all in the mix on foul blends
Unhh...uhhh...

[Busta] What ya'll niggaz wanna do now?
Mode] We wanna do it again, we wanna do it again
[Busta] I..say...what my Flip Mode unit do now?
[Flip Mode] We wanna do it again, again again and
[Busta] I...say...do that
[Flip I say do that shit
Uh-do that real live shit
[Flip Uh do that real live shit!
[Busta] You we comin' through shit
[Flip Mode] You know we comin' shit
[Busta] Ay-yo we here to shit!
[Flip Ay-yo we here to rule shit!

Digga]
What?! You like the hooptie that ain't test driven
I say spittin', less stricken and cess ridden, WHAT?
Watch 'mira' mack the
Then I cut a bitch clean like I was Queens
Digga on the track watch the sales
Flex like I'm it, red like my poo-poo!
Some with Fendi type galoshes
On some Rah-shit wit' real where the Taj is
with the Outz on the pre-product
Had other click once but they reefer sucked
Well, time to blaze how I swing
I be mad like Max and merciless like Ming

[Spliff
Interception, throw the in my direction
Let me step to pussies raw dog wit' no protection
Strokin' dem until they bleed and they can't
Run up in they click ten terrorizing theives
Ya'll is twat, my squad form like SWAT
Spliff Star through ya like it or not
High off pot, make it hot like a coke
Refuse to lose, we keeps the flock, I'm my props, WHAT!

[Lord Have
Ay-yo fuck dem and everything they love on Earth
Keep 'em runnin' from birth til' the jet bubble cris Hurst
And run a stick turf wit' double his
Hustlin' curse pastors who got guns in the church
in the church...hmmm...rum in the church
Dark, a worm til' they jugular burst
Speak last rites then kick the dust on them
Kemosabe! Your arms too to box with me
(For-geddit) Call wit' me (for-geddit)
Laugh now cry later, I beef like mad cow
My blaze up for nine acres...

Rhymes]
...get lucci, Gucci and stack papers
Tell me what's wrong nigga got yo bent up
Beats fuck your up even got yo mind messed up
up, I love when bitches get fly and dress up
(HA! What!) You best believe I (HA!) the rest up
When you clean the mess up, press up
acid burn yo chest up
Who's the next up to be the fool to get the X-er
Throwin' me off, you be in labor, TURN Funkmaster Flex-uh!

[Funkmaster Flex] ...yeah, aaight? Busta Rhymes, Mode Squad!
60 minutes! Flavor... Big to Monica for understandin' how
the flex...Yeah...what the deal.