Luyện nghe bài hát Wack Mc`s

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

[Joe
and gentlemen
With no adieux {"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 could be over
All it's gon' take's a U-turn from the
You test me, you see
We mix hands with guns, the hood's UFC
And me? I had gear (nah) but since last year
I swore not to cop nothin if it cashmere
You just salty, I'm than sodium
Anticipate the like Obama at the podium
Me and y'all are nowhere near the same (nah)
Not in layman's terms,
Metaphorically, lyrically, not
Theoretically (I mean) we just genetically
And they ain't named me the yet
So it's, ACG's, sweats
Homie is just a thought (for)
The Wall DJ's that 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 nigga 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 bottle of wearin a weddin dress
niggaz is dead unless you see we have not been playin
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 Akeem but I will greet you with the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
These other rappers is broke
They so po' they gotta 'Loso to have a (Fabolous) quote
And to the fo'-fo' grabbin they throat tellin 'em
Your niggaz arms all froze like they a stroke
Admit it y'all, Nickel bonkers, and stomp ya
Put a nigga in a shlomper, I am not the one bruh
This my response to nigga hidin out in Yonkers
[crickets chirping] Haha, nigga's (blam)

[Joell
Uhh, Joell Ortiz (Joell Ortiz) yup, it's me
I used to drink the beer by Billy Dee
By the bodega in and a white tee
Steady cocoa pia callin for a iced tea
Married to the block, that's why I never kept a
Million fish in the sea, I a couple Pisces
Had a fetish for guns, I kept a few near
Never someone but I fired 'em all on New Year's
Never lost a fight, I'm 25-and-O, what!
Except that in high school but he jetted when I woke up
E'ry time I spit it's like filled the whole cup
with liquor and just downed it, they hear it throw up
nights the fridge 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 so I don't rap like you wack MC's

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

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

[Chorus - begins last line]