Luyện nghe bài hát Wack Mc`s

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

Budden]
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 talkin could be over
All gon' take's a U-turn from the chauffeur
You test me, you see
We mix hands guns, that's the hood's UFC
And me? I never had gear (nah) but since year
I not to cop nothin if it wasn't cashmere
You just salty, I'm fonder than
the shots like Obama at the podium
Me and are nowhere near the same pedigree (nah)
Not in terms, hypothetically
Metaphorically, lyrically, not
(I mean) we just different genetically
And ain't named me the champion yet
So it's, ACG's, Champion
Homie this is just a (for)
The Donny Wall DJ's don't wanna play the best nigga 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 back
Slaughterhouse

My nigga said it best - y'all niggaz married to the streets
I'm married to a bottle of wearin a weddin dress
Y'all niggaz is dead unless you see we not been playin
The Slaughterhouse ain't no gang
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 Akeem but I will greet you with the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
These other lame is broke
They so po' gotta name 'Loso to have a (Fabolous) quote
And to the fo'-fo' grabbin they throat tellin 'em
niggaz arms 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 to that nigga hidin out in Yonkers
[crickets Haha, that nigga's (blam)

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

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

I laugh after I kill you, I'm a sportsman
Slaughterhouse the to the Four Horsemen
Niggaz born to so bring some more whores in
Thinkin with my other hand before more
Me and Red Spyda, in a red Spider
Executive Westsider, homie's a tec
Homie I check riders, you better down
Hands down, you'll be man on the damn ground
Long Beach, the home of strap clappers
From ringtoners to backpackers, I rappers
Speak on us and we gon' be bendin them street
to clap actors, after that brrrap, collapse
Shit, that's when the force through
I Malcolm X you pigs, what the pork do?
I X the track, that mean arm-leg-leg-arm-head
Body the beat, the too, heh
And the chorus for you, NIGGA!

- begins during last line]