Luyện nghe bài hát Westwood Freestyle 2010

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

2: Royce da 5'9"]
Niggas be lying, talking that, bust a heater
I see him, maybe more like Justin Bieber
Leaving my rivals like Skyzoo's, how I do
I have her laying in the and bleeding
Butt naked with a bullet in his muthafucking head like Badu
I find in being in a place
Where I'm wearing Gucci, getting White boy wasted
I tell a nigga, break bread or lead
I'm tryna get rid of weight like K-Fed
Me and got a gangsta bond
We like that once-in-a-lifetime thang to you that ain't the
The next MC that official with ref with a whistle
That ain't Young Money, I'mma definitely you
If you rhyming packing a Mac back of the Ac
Or you can't match my spectacular vernacular
You still rhyming bottles with models, college for
Using the word swagger, you're probably
You thugs funny, 5'9" to anybody
You comparing to Bugs Bunny

3: Eminem]
I'm like a White Michael - Vick, enough to stick
J. Fox in a microwave with a Rott
I make a little Alizé with a side of NyQuil
And ride a motorcycle bike right through the side of my high
Satan's disciple a sniper rifle and a knife 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
hard-on for razors and blades and anything sharp
Even poisonous darts; it all plays a part of his game
Holy water ward 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, why's there on his carpet, mane
There's some shit going on in Shady's apartment again

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

5: Royce da 5'9"]
Y'all should call Nickle the Don Bishop
A poet, a mixer of Don Goines and Grisham
Flow'll have you rewinding it four or times
That landmine rhyme written with porcupine
Step up in here with the
C.O.B. Gang will approach you and bend ya gun to a Horseshoe
Only wit monsters, we the truth, monsters will pop up on ya
Like ya said Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,
I can't see the booth, I could fit Stevie's shoe
I'm sick, I got the Desert flu
I'm rich, lil' nigga, we don't a cent, we Teflon
The doctor tried to blood, the needle bent, ask mom
Outta my mind if you can
Using Magic's without a condom, I'm bonkers
Got the streets going, dude, tremendous
If I come for ya blood, I ain't be using syringes

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

7: Mr. Porter]
Look I'm sick, somebody get the Dimetapp
Who I gotta just to prove that I can rap?
People ask where my is at
I say the liner notes, I done done all kinda crap
I am so much of a star,
That I can and piss on the red carpet
Look, my account's retarded
My debit card's got a and a harness, hey
demands but they all are harmless
At shows, my riders always the
I four pounds of fried poultry carcass
And red M&Ms; chartered from
Look, and if you try to act and start 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
Look: measles, mumps, I you bitches
I don't need you chumps, y'all got and I need my chunks
Hurry up, so I can go to rubber and get some more dunks

8: Royce da 5'9"]
Now if your attitude determines your
This house that we 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, seeing
You musta had yourself a bag of shrooms, I a call
Make 'em fake a fall, my is too sick, say goodbye
In the streets where the stakes is like Ruth's Chris
I'm from the of true shit
Where the mayor went to jail for being a player right after Proof
Levels the head of competitors Royce
I'm drinking til Hex Murda get his regular voice back
Ras, I got ya, look at ya, blast from ya
From a away; ask Tricky, I'm that niggie
I'm mo than black dickies
I rap like committing suicide in the taking the track with me
Patrón's in my chromosomes, in order to leave it
You have to ween me off Lorena Bobbitt chopper'd
Knock a weenie off, put body between chalk
I'm squeezing the nine iron I'm swinging golf
I'm with the best alive, put something on it
Your plain as a cheeseburger with nothing on it

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