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 names
I'm so-and-so, I'm this, I'm
Huh, but they all wick-wick-wack

[Joe
and gentlemen
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 slick talkin could be over
All it's gon' take's a U-turn from the
You me, you just see
We mix hands guns, that's the hood's UFC
And me? I never had gear (nah) but since last
I swore not to cop nothin if it cashmere
You just salty, I'm than sodium
Anticipate the shots like 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 they ain't me the champion yet
So it's, ACG's, Champion
Homie this is a thought (for)
The Donny Wall 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 Spyda is BACK!
5'9", that's me, I'm baby
Slaughterhouse

My nigga Jumpoff said it best - y'all niggaz married to the
I'm married to a bottle of Patrn wearin a dress
Y'all niggaz is dead unless you see we have not been
The Slaughterhouse no goddamn gang
up to the bar where you hang
Shoot at your like, "Hohh, we pop champagne!"
No to ol' D's boy Jimmy
I ain't Prince Akeem but I will greet you the sweepers or the (Semmi)'s
These other lame rappers is
They so po' they gotta name 'Loso to have a (Fabolous)
And to the fo'-fo' grabbin they throat 'em choke
Your niggaz arms all like they havin a stroke
Admit it y'all, Nickel bonkers, kick and ya
Put a sleepin in a shlomper, I am not the one bruh
This my to that nigga hidin out in Yonkers
[crickets chirping] Haha, nigga's (blam)

[Joell
Uhh, Joell Ortiz (Joell Ortiz) yup, really me
I used to drink the beer by Billy Dee
By the in chancletas and a white tee
Steady cocoa pia callin papi for a tea
to the block, that's why I never kept a wifey
Million in the sea, I juggled a couple Pisces
Had a fetish for guns, I kept a few near
shot someone but I fired '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 time I spit it's like somebody filled the cup
with liquor and just downed it, they hear it 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 so I don't rap like 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 to pimp so bring some more whores in
Thinkin with my other before more foreskin
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 on the damn ground
Long Beach, the home of them clappers
From ringtoners to backpackers, I rappers
Speak on us and we gon' be bendin them street
to actors, after that brrrap, collapse backwards
Shit, that's when the force through
I Malcolm X you pigs, what the pork do?
I Malcolm X the track, that mean
the beat, the torso too, heh
And the chorus for you, NIGGA!

[Chorus - begins during line]