Luyện nghe bài hát Westwood Freestyle 2010

[Verse 1: Mr.
to the ill world of Mr. P-O
Ay, the talk, B; I'm tryna see dough
If it ain't about bread, we gon' speak fo
If it no lead, then it ain't no beef, bro
You better get a leash cause freak ho
in wood like she Home Depot
I'm Chico DeBarge, we stars
Roscoe P. in these bars, man
Amtrak, I'll break her back, man
Ralph Lauren, this ain't no damn Chaps
It's all Polo; I'm so pro
You bird-crazy: El Pollo
Talking bout cheese and this no photo
Asking bout rings the ho know Frodo
You better get out of my house and
I think I threw up in my a bit, I'm sick

[Verse 2: da 5'9"]
Niggas be lying, talking 'bout that, a heater
Once I see him, more like Justin Bieber
Leaving my rivals underground Skyzoo's, how I do
I have her laying in the and bleeding
Butt naked with a bullet in his muthafucking head like Erykah
I irony in being in a place
Where I'm wearing Gucci, mayne; getting boy wasted
I tell a nigga, break bread or lead
I'm tryna get rid of this like K-Fed
Me and Denaun got a bond
We like once-in-a-lifetime thang to you that ain't the prom
The next MC that rhyme official with ref with a
ain't Young Money, I'mma definitely diss you
If you rhyming packing a Mac back of the Ac
Or you can't match my spectacular vernacular
You still bottles with models, college for knowledge
Using the word swagger, probably garbage
You funny, comparing 5'9" to anybody
You comparing Superman to Bugs

[Verse 3:
I'm like a White Michael - Vick, psycho enough to
Michael J. Fox in a microwave a Rott
I might make a little Alizé with a of NyQuil
And ride a motorcycle bike right through the side of my school
Satan's disciple with a sniper rifle and a and a white diaper
Liable to shit on you I snipe you
So dope he off opiates, what an appropriate
Way to off his day; he may just smart off to Dre
He may be hard to cause his rage is so hard to gauge
See ate his face and met Jason, gnawed off his leg
Amazing hard-on for and blades and anything sharp
Even poisonous darts; it all plays a major part of his
Holy water won't him off, crucifixes won't do the trick
He's so sick, it's ridiculous; sawed the part off his brain
He's still insane, there bloodstains on his carpet, mane
There's some crazy shit on in Shady's apartment again

[Verse 4: Mr.
Okay, it's to the blocks, slinging yay like the old days
Superman on the beat, I carry my whole
You wooden legs to a house: you hold weight
Oh shit, it's Jackson! Okay
A little bit of twisted out with Obama in it
Mr. Porter back with anthrax like Osama him
Bitch, I'm all that; I drive the crazy
They gotta look at to get they thoughts back
I ain't a small fry, ticker, small tack
I make 'em all cry with big and raw sack
The potblood of science to a raw rap
I'm the best, Eli Porter stance

5: Royce da 5'9"]
Y'all bitches should call the Don Bishop
A poet, a mixer of Don Goines and Grisham
Flow'll have you rewinding it four or five
That landmine written with porcupine line
up in here with the Slaughterhouse
C.O.B. Gang will approach you and ya gun barrel to a Horseshoe
Only fuck wit monsters, we the truth, will pop up on ya
ya said Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice
I can't see the booth, I could fit Stevie's shoe
I'm sick, I got the Eagle flu
I'm rich, nigga, we don't need a cent, we Teflon
The doctor to take blood, the needle bent, ask mom
my mind if you can imagine
Using Magic's johnson a condom, I'm bonkers
Got the streets going, dude, it's
If I come for ya blood, I ain't be using syringes

[Verse 6:
Newsflash, I'm still trashed, them pills killed my ass
But they didn't, they just made me
It's they rebuilt my ass, like the Six Million Dollar Man after the crash
It's Aftermath, bitch And my milk glass is still
Yeah, me! Hell isn't enough
need to invent somewhere new to send me
As sick as I'm getting, they'll me in a conventional oven
a rotisserie setting and won't even notice me sweating
Shit, I done made a verse, said foul shit
Tryna go back fix it, fucked and just made it worse
Yeah, I'm back, looking no for wear, got these haters
Mad enough to rip off their and start punching the air
Panties so in a that they can't function
It's Shady and Royce, yeah, what a dysfunctional pair
So stop like a punk, get a pair
Take a and fall the fuck out, spill ya lunch in the chair

7: Mr. Porter]
Look I'm sick, somebody get the Dimetapp
Who I shoot just to prove that I can rap?
People ask my shine is at
I say the liner notes, I done done all kinda crap
I am so of a star, bitch
That I can fart and piss on the red
Look, my account's retarded
My debit got a helmet and a harness, hey
demands but they all are harmless
At shows, my riders the largest
I need four pounds of fried carcass
And red chartered from Charlotte
Look, and if you try to act dumb and shit
I yell at em like, I'm the artist
In fact that you the deal
If you play sick, we can all get ill
measles, mumps, I made you bitches
I need you chumps, y'all got cheese and I need my chunks
Hurry up, so I can go to burn rubber and get some dunks

8: Royce da 5'9"]
Now if your attitude determines latitude
house that we call hip hop, I'm in the attic, fool
A mic and two turntables, fit for the
Converted to a padded room, keep a street in fact
I call the mag a broom, you seeing beef, things
You musta had yourself a bag of shrooms, I make a
Make 'em a fall, my clique is too sick, say goodbye
In the streets where the stakes is high like Chris
I'm from the city of shit
Where the mayor to jail for being a player right after Proof split
Levels the head of competitors Royce
I'm drinking everyday til Hex get his regular voice back
Ras, I got ya, look at ya, blast from ya
From a block ask Tricky, I'm that niggie
I'm mo than black dickies
I rap like committing suicide in the booth the track with me
Patrón's in my chromosomes, in to leave it alone
You have to ween me off Lorena Bobbitt chopper'd
a weenie off, put your body between chalk
I'm squeezing the nine iron I'm swinging golf
I'm the best rapper alive, put something on it
Your sound's plain as a with nothing on it

9: Eminem]
I'll do a hundred-yard dash just to slash Kim in the ass
With a shard of glass from Nick Hogan's car
You may like the passenger for that, don't be a smart ass
Yeah, laugh while sit there thinking the hard part passed
You ain't seen til Leatherface flips, mayne
I'll cut ya fucking balls off homie, my off the chain
I the bitch in half with it, sawed off her legs
And the top half of the torso fucking crawled off and
I ain't seen shit like since I went to Mike Jack's
And took the Elephant Man's skull, fucked it, and put it right
Handed my dick to Bubbles while he sucked it and my nutsack
him a reach-around while I fucked him right in his buttcrack
Nah, I ain't taking it back, faggot, that
I give a fuck about nothing so here's where you up at
Don't go touching can, man; you don't wanna open up that
a min, ah, shit...Alchemist, cut that