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 about bread, what we gon' speak fo
If it ain't no lead, it ain't no beef, bro
You better get a cause your freak ho
Specialize in wood like she Depot
I'm like DeBarge, we stars
Roscoe P. in these bars, man
Amtrak, I'll her damn back, man
It's Ralph Lauren, this no damn Chaps
It's all Polo; I'm so pro
You bird-crazy: El Loco
Talking bout and this ain't no photo
Asking bout rings like the ho know
You better get out of my house and
I think I up in my mouth a bit, I'm sick

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

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

4: Mr. Porter]
Okay, it's back to the blocks, slinging yay like the old
Superman on the beat, I my whole state
You wooden legs to a you can't hold weight
Oh shit, it's Jackson! Okay
A little bit of this out with Obama in it
Mr. Porter with anthrax like Osama sent him
Bitch, I'm all that; I drive the girls
They gotta look at Rorschachs to get they thoughts
I ain't a small fry, ticker, small tack
I make 'em all cry with big dick and raw
The potblood of to return a raw rap
I'm the best, mane: Eli Porter

[Verse 5: da 5'9"]
Y'all bitches should call Nickle the Don
A poet, a mixer of Don and John Grisham
have you rewinding it four or five times
That rhyme written with porcupine line
Step up in with the Slaughterhouse
C.O.B. Gang will approach you and bend ya gun barrel to a
Only fuck wit monsters, we the truth, will pop up on ya
Like ya Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice
I even 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 johnson without a condom, I'm
Got the going, dude, it's tremendous
If I come for ya blood, I gon' be using syringes

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

[Verse 7: Mr.
I'm sick, somebody better get the Dimetapp
Who I gotta shoot just to prove that I can
People ask my shine is at
I say the liner notes, I done done all kinda crap
I am so much of a star,
I can fart and piss on the red carpet
Look, my bank 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 of fried poultry carcass
And red M&Ms; chartered from
Look, and if you try to act dumb and start
I yell at em like, I'm the artist
In fact you know the deal
If you play sick, we can all get ill
Look: measles, mumps, I made you
I don't need you chumps, y'all got and I need my chunks
Hurry up, so I can go to burn rubber and get more dunks

8: Royce da 5'9"]
Now if your attitude determines latitude
This house that we call hip hop, I'm in the attic,
A mic and two turntables, fit for the
to a padded room, keep a street sweeper in fact
I call the mag a broom, you seeing beef, seeing
You musta had yourself a bag of shrooms, I make a
Make 'em fake a fall, my clique is too sick, say
In the streets where the is high like Ruth's Chris
I'm from the city of shit
Where the mayor went to jail for being a right after Proof split
Levels the head of Royce that
I'm drinking everyday til Hex Murda get his regular back
Ras, I got ya, scared at ya, blast from ya
a block away; ask Tricky, I'm that niggie
I'm mo hooder black dickies
I rap like suicide in the booth taking the track with me
in my chromosomes, in order to leave it alone
You have to ween me off that Bobbitt chopper'd
Knock a weenie off, put your body chalk
I'm the nine iron like I'm swinging golf
I'm with the best rapper alive, put on it
Your sound's plain as a cheeseburger with on it

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