Luyện nghe bài hát Gordon Ramsay vs Julia Child

EPIC RAP OF HISTORY!
RAMSAY!
VERSUS!
CHILD!
BEGIN!

[Gordon
And that's how you make a risotto
Right, Mrs. Child, to the grown-ups' table
got exactly two minutes and you should be grateful
Cause I'm in the fucking weeds with all shows to pitch
I keep my ovens preheated and my green-lit
I'm a seasoned skillet, a PAM-sprayed pan
I've got Michelin stars, like the Michelin Man
I'm rolling in dough, like Wellington from hollering
And I'm shitting on you I'm wack flows intolerant

Child]
Oh, isn't a wonderful thing?
A grumpy chef who thinks he can bring
Enough stuff to getting rough
the butter-loving queen of the bourguignon boeuf
I rock hard as concrete on top of these beats
Been chopping the pommes frites you sucked on your mom's teats
I served America dutifully, and I sliced lard
I reigned supreme from repellent to charcuterie
Go on and cross your in that b-boy stance
And when it to haute cuisine, there's one F-word: France
a nice amuse-bouche, take a poor abused youth
Set a thirty-year timer, voila! douche!
a namby-pamby candy-assed pansy, Gordon Ramsay
You couldn't rap your way out of a pastry bag, me?
I and create, you berate and destroy
But fear, my dear boy, is scrumptious than joy

[Gordon
I'm glad that you got that off giant, flabby chest
I'd call you a Donkey but you look like Shrek
When the Iron Man chef busts a
I'll open up on you like a fine red
I'm a innovator, you're no creator
Regurgitating French plates like a translator
I'm fresh, you're your expiration date
Alright, it, blue team, drop the bouillabaisse (yes, chef!)
seen your little show and it sure ain't pretty
One Big Bird, two parts Miss Piggy
You can't test me with fatty recipes
Call book Mastering the art of heart disease
I mean its (yes, chef!)
look at 408
me who the fuck (yes, chef!)
wants to learn to cook calf
You call rhymes raw? (no, chef!)
they're stale and
now take this jacket
now it back and fuck off!