Luyện nghe bài hát Wack Mc`s

[Intro: of Boogie Down 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
Ladies and
With no adieux {"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 talkin could be over
All it's gon' take's a U-turn 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 last year
I swore not to cop if it wasn't cashmere
You salty, I'm fonder than sodium
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 different genetically
And they named me the champion yet
So it's, ACG's, sweats
Homie this is a thought (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", me, I'm back baby
Slaughterhouse

My nigga Jumpoff said it - y'all niggaz married to the streets
I'm to a bottle of Patrn wearin a weddin dress
Y'all niggaz is unless you see we have not been playin
The Slaughterhouse ain't no goddamn
Show up to the bar you hang
Shoot at your like, "Hohh, we pop champagne!"
No to ol' D's boy Jimmy
I Prince Akeem but I will greet you with the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
These other rappers is broke
They so po' they gotta name 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, and stomp ya
Put a nigga in a shlomper, I am not the one bruh
This my to that 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 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
Million fish in the sea, I juggled a Pisces
Had a for guns, I always kept a few near
Never someone but I fired 'em all on New Year's
lost a fight, I'm like 25-and-O, what!
Except that in high school but he jetted when I woke up
E'ry time I spit it's like somebody filled the cup
liquor and just downed it, they hear it wanna throw up
Many nights the fridge held me down with old cold
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 like you wack

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

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

[Chorus - during last line]