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 perfect
Right, Mrs. Child, to the grown-ups' table
I've got two minutes and you should be grateful
I'm in the fucking weeds with all these shows to pitch
I keep my preheated and my pilots green-lit
I'm a skillet, you're a PAM-sprayed pan
I've got Michelin stars, like the Michelin Man
I'm in dough, like Beef Wellington from hollering
And I'm shitting on you like I'm flows intolerant

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

Ramsay]
I'm glad you got that off your giant, flabby chest
I'd call you a Donkey but you look more like
When the Iron Man chef busts a
I'll open up on you like a fine red
I'm a culinary innovator, you're no
Regurgitating French plates like a glorified
I'm fresh, you're past your expiration
Alright, fuck it, blue team, the bouillabaisse (yes, chef!)
I've seen your little show and it sure pretty
One part Big Bird, two parts Piggy
You can't test me with fatty recipes
Call your Mastering the art of heart disease
I its rubbish (yes, chef!)
at page 408
tell me who the (yes, chef!)
to learn to cook calf brains?
You call these raw? (no, chef!)
stale and soft
now here take this
now give it back and off!