Luyện nghe bài hát Wack Mc`s

[Intro: sample of Boogie Productions' "My Philosophy"]
Rap is like a set-up, a lot of
A lot of suckas colorful names
I'm so-and-so, I'm this, I'm
Huh, but they all wick-wick-wack

[Joe
Ladies and
With no further {"wick-wick"}
It's man, Joey! {"wick-wi-wi-wi-wick-wick-wack"}
{"wick-wick-wick-wack"}

I'm the perfect one to show ya, all that slick talkin be over
All it's gon' take's a U-turn from the
You me, you just see
We mix with guns, that's the hood's UFC
And me? I never had (nah) but since last year
I not to cop nothin if it wasn't cashmere
You just salty, I'm fonder than
Anticipate the shots like at the podium
Me and are nowhere near the same pedigree (nah)
Not in layman's terms,
Metaphorically, lyrically, not
(I mean) we just different genetically
And they ain't named me the yet
So it's, ACG's, Champion
Homie is just a thought (for)
The Donny Wall DJ's that don't wanna play the best in New York, dawg

"Wick-wick-wack"
"Wick, wick-wi-wick-wi-wick-wick-wack"
"Wick-wick-wick-wack"
"Wick-wick-wack"
"Wick, wick-wi-wick-wi-wick-wick-wack"
"Wick-wick-wick-wack"

Da 5'9"]
OHH! My Spyda is BACK!
5'9", that's me, I'm baby
what?

My nigga Jumpoff said it best - niggaz married to the streets
I'm married to a bottle of Patrn wearin a dress
Y'all niggaz is dead unless you see we have not been
The Slaughterhouse ain't no goddamn
Show up to the bar where you
at your bottle like, "Hohh, we pop champagne!"
No to ol' D's boy Jimmy
I ain't Prince Akeem but I greet you with the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
These other lame is broke
so po' they gotta name 'Loso to have a (Fabolous) quote
And to the fo'-fo' they throat tellin 'em choke
Your niggaz all froze like they havin a stroke
Admit it y'all, Nickel bonkers, kick and ya
Put a nigga sleepin in a shlomper, I am not the one
This my response to that nigga out in Yonkers
[crickets chirping] Haha, that (blam)

[Joell
Uhh, Joell (Joell Ortiz) yup, it's really me
I used to drink the beer promoted by Dee
By the bodega in chancletas and a tee
Steady pia callin papi for a iced tea
Married to the block, that's why I never a wifey
fish in the sea, I juggled a couple Pisces
Had a fetish for guns, I always a few near
Never someone but I fired 'em all on New Year's
Never a fight, I'm like 25-and-O, what!
Except that time in high but he jetted when I woke up
E'ry time I spit it's like somebody the whole cup
liquor and just downed it, they hear it wanna throw up
Many the fridge held me down with old cold cuts
No mayo? No mustard? No Ah, so what!
On the in the corner was my mattress, B
I hated that so I don't rap like you MC's

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

I laugh after I you, I'm a poor sportsman
the successors to the Four Horsemen
Niggaz to pimp so bring some more whores in
Thinkin my other hand before more foreskin
Me and Red Spyda, in a red Spider
Executive Westsider, homie's a tec
Homie I riders, you better stand down
Hands down, you'll be man down on the damn
Long Beach, the home of them clappers
From to backpackers, I smack rappers
on us and we gon' be bendin them street corners
to actors, after that brrrap, collapse backwards
Shit, that's the force roll through
I Malcolm X you pigs, the pork gon' do?
I Malcolm X the track, that mean
Body the beat, the too, heh
And the chorus for you, NIGGA!

[Chorus - begins during line]