Luyện nghe bài hát Wack Mc`s

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

[Joe
Ladies and
With no further {"wick-wick"}
your 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 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 last
I not to cop nothin if it wasn't cashmere
You just salty, I'm fonder sodium
Anticipate the shots like Obama at the
Me and are nowhere near the same pedigree (nah)
Not in layman's terms,
Metaphorically, lyrically, not
Theoretically (I mean) we different genetically
And they ain't named me the yet
So it's, ACG's, sweats
Homie is just a thought (for)
The Donny Wall DJ's that don't wanna 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
what?

My nigga Jumpoff said it best - y'all married to the streets
I'm married to a of Patrn 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 you hang
Shoot at your like, "Hohh, we pop champagne!"
No disrespect to ol' D's boy
I ain't Akeem but I will greet you with the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
other lame rappers is broke
They so po' they name 'Loso to have a (Fabolous) quote
And to the fo'-fo' grabbin they throat 'em choke
Your niggaz all froze like they havin a stroke
Admit it y'all, bonkers, kick and stomp ya
Put a nigga sleepin in a shlomper, I am not the one
This my response to 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 beer promoted by Dee
By the in chancletas and a white tee
Steady pia callin papi for a iced tea
Married to the block, why I never kept a wifey
Million fish in the sea, I a couple Pisces
Had a fetish for guns, I kept a few near
Never shot someone but I fired 'em all on New
Never a fight, I'm like 25-and-O, what!
Except that time in high school but he jetted I woke up
E'ry time I spit like somebody filled 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 floor in the was my mattress, B
I hated that so I don't rap you wack MC's

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

I after I kill you, I'm a poor sportsman
Slaughterhouse the to the Four Horsemen
Niggaz born to pimp so bring more whores in
Thinkin with my other before more foreskin
Me and Red Spyda, in a red Spider
Executive Westsider, a tec writer
Homie I check riders, you better down
Hands down, be man down on the damn ground
Beach, the home of them strap clappers
From to backpackers, I smack rappers
Speak on us and we be bendin them street corners
to clap actors, that brrrap, collapse backwards
Shit, that's when the 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 leave the for you, NIGGA!

[Chorus - begins last line]