Luyện nghe bài hát Freestyle (dissin' The Source)

I got a riddle,
What's little and big,
With arms and creamy white filling in the middle,
do anything to throw dirt on my name,
If it walking the whole Mediterranean,
Is it an Albanian, Armenian, Iranian, Tasmanian,
No, his Raymond and oh,
Oh sorry, yo, so sorry,
But that was a long ago,
I was just Joe Schmo,
Rapping in Joe basement,
I apologized for it so,
accept it or you don't,
And let's on,
If I ain't shown I've grown you get the bone,*
Keep lickin nuts you industry mutts,
Keep walking around sniffing other's butts,
Or I say asses,
What would be the more politically correct to use for the masses,
The I ask is how can I explain this,
How can I swing this in language,
If I to slang and turned man to mane,
Do I do it in vain or to entertain,
Am I real or am I being fake,
Am I just a or am I truly genuine,
Or am I up in this hot water,
on my daughter,
I told you I love this culture,
let 'em insult ya,
I'ma tell you once again
This is the environment I was up in,
But now and then,
I use my pen to get rid of frustration,
Or I say "shun",
Is it another one of my subliminal ways of racism,*
Your face is numb, stunned,
Your look is cold that of a man of 70 some years old,*
And it only colder,
is why I understand,
You can't be mad at a 44 year old fan a chip on his shoulder,
Who owns a half of a magazine,
And the only way to it seen is to put me on the front of it again,
Only thing that him grin is to see me frown,*
Papa can't me,
Papa needs to take his medication and sit the down,
In his new chair that round and round,
That he bought the money in his bank account,
I get him every issue when the thing comes out,
Sit back and let his puffy clown come out,
And let his side arm wrestle his white side,
Yell apartheid loud enough he might slide,
He might someone dumb enough who might ride,*
But ain't nobody over here two white guys,
as pro-black,
There is no slack for a Harvard grat in a fitted hat,
And a standin by the clearance coat rack,
In some old slacks and RSO throwbacks, yeah*
in the place to bc,
And it what I got to rock the mike, right*
Still not cater these punks,
cock-suckin, pussy-lips, hated, dicks, cunts.*