Luyện nghe bài hát Freestyle - Busta Rhymes & Flipmode Squad

[Busta
Flip Mode, Flex Volume 3!

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

[Baby
Let me find out niggaz poppin' shit the mouth
some two macs that's spittin' from the holsters
You feel this you chose this
I wigs like the ocean, respect Moses
clips to spit, Flip Mode runnin' this shit
So bounce to this, on wrist
My platinum shit half sin
See me in the by the door bulgin' in
Rockin' the lin, my waves tight, dark skin
Baby Sham spittin' all in the mix on blends
Unhh...uhhh...

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

[Rah
What?! You like the hooptie that been test driven
I say fresh spittin', less and cess ridden, WHAT?
'mira' mack the steez
Then I cut a bitch clean like I was Queens
on the track watch the sales quadruple
Flex like I'm it, red like my poo-poo!
Some shit with type galoshes
On some Rah-shit wit' real estate the Taj is
with the Outz on the pre-product
Had this other click once but reefer sucked
Well, time to blaze how I swing
I be mad like Max and merciless like Ming

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

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

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

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