Luyện nghe bài hát Wack Mc`s

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

[Joe
and gentlemen
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 slick could be over
All gon' take's a U-turn from the chauffeur
You test me, you see
We mix hands with guns, that's the UFC
And me? I never had (nah) but since last year
I swore not to cop if it wasn't cashmere
You just salty, I'm than sodium
Anticipate the shots like Obama at the
Me and y'all are near the same 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, Champion
Homie this is a thought (for)
The Donny Wall DJ's that don't 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 back
Slaughterhouse

My nigga Jumpoff said it best - niggaz married to the streets
I'm married to a bottle of Patrn wearin a weddin
Y'all is dead unless you see we have not been playin
The ain't 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 but I will greet you with 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 fo'-fo' grabbin they throat tellin 'em
Your niggaz arms all froze like they havin a
Admit it y'all, Nickel bonkers, kick and ya
Put a nigga in a shlomper, I am not the one bruh
This my response to nigga hidin out in Yonkers
[crickets Haha, that nigga's (blam)

[Joell
Uhh, Joell Ortiz (Joell Ortiz) yup, really me
I used to drink the beer promoted by Dee
By the bodega in chancletas and a tee
Steady cocoa pia papi for a iced tea
Married to the block, that's why I never kept a
Million fish in the sea, I juggled a couple
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 time in high school but he jetted I woke up
E'ry time I spit like somebody filled the whole cup
with and just downed it, they hear it wanna throw up
Many nights the fridge held me down with old cuts
No mayo? No No bread? Ah, so what!
On the floor in the was my mattress, B
I that so I don't rap like you wack MC's

I]
Geah! H-dot, ha ha!

I laugh after I kill you, I'm a 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, in a red Spider
Executive Westsider, a tec writer
Homie I riders, you better stand down
Hands down, you'll be man on the damn ground
Long Beach, the home of them strap
From ringtoners to backpackers, I smack
on us and we gon' be bendin them street corners
to clap actors, after that brrrap, backwards
Shit, when the force roll through
I X you pigs, what 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]