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 with colorful
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 gon' take's a U-turn from the chauffeur
You test me, you see
We mix with 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
Anticipate the shots Obama at the podium
Me and y'all are nowhere near the pedigree (nah)
Not in layman's terms,
Metaphorically, lyrically, not
Theoretically (I mean) we just different
And ain't named me the champion yet
So it's, ACG's, Champion
Homie this is a thought (for)
The Donny Wall DJ's that don't wanna play the 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 baby
Slaughterhouse

My nigga Jumpoff it best - y'all niggaz married to the streets
I'm married to a bottle of Patrn 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 disrespect to ol' D's boy
I ain't Prince Akeem but I will greet you the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
These other lame is broke
They so po' they name 'Loso to have a (Fabolous) quote
And to the grabbin they throat tellin 'em choke
Your niggaz arms all froze 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 nigga hidin out in Yonkers
[crickets Haha, that nigga's (blam)

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

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

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

- begins during last line]