Luyện nghe bài hát Westwood Freestyle 2010

[Verse 1: Mr.
Welcome to the ill 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 get a leash cause your freak ho
Specialize in wood she Home Depot
I'm like DeBarge, we stars
Roscoe P. Coltrane in bars, man
Amtrak, I'll her damn back, man
It's Ralph Lauren, ain't no damn Chaps
It's all Polo; I'm so pro
You bird-crazy: El Pollo
Talking cheese and this ain't no photo
Asking bout rings like the ho 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 'bout that, a heater
Once I see him, maybe more like Justin
my rivals underground like Skyzoo's, how I do
I have her in the street and bleeding
naked with a bullet in his muthafucking head like Erykah Badu
I irony in being 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 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 rhyme official with ref with a whistle
ain't Young Money, I'mma definitely diss you
If you rhyming a Mac with back of the Ac
Or you can't match my spectacular vernacular
You still bottles with models, college for knowledge
Using the word swagger, you're garbage
You funny, comparing 5'9" to anybody
You comparing to Bugs Bunny

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

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

[Verse 5: da 5'9"]
Y'all should call Nickle the Don Bishop
A poet, a of Don Goines and John Grisham
Flow'll have you rewinding it four or times
That landmine rhyme with porcupine line
Step up in here the Slaughterhouse
C.O.B. Gang approach you and bend ya gun barrel to a Horseshoe
Only fuck wit monsters, we the truth, monsters pop up on ya
Like ya 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, lil' nigga, we don't need a cent, we
The doctor tried to blood, the needle bent, ask mom
my mind if you can imagine
Using johnson 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 made me
It's like they rebuilt my ass, like the Six Dollar Man after the crash
It's Aftermath, bitch And my milk glass is still
Yeah, tempt me! isn't enough
They need to invent new to send me
As sick as I'm getting, they'll stick me in a oven
With a setting and won't even notice me sweating
Shit, I done made a verse, some foul shit
Tryna go back fix it, fucked and just made it worse
Yeah, I'm back, looking no worse for wear, got haters
Mad enough to rip off their hair and start the air
so in a bunch that they can't function
It's Shady and Royce, fuck yeah, what a dysfunctional
So stop acting a punk, get a pair
Take a pill and the fuck out, spill ya lunch in the chair

[Verse 7: Mr.
Look I'm sick, somebody better get the
Who I gotta shoot to prove that I can rap?
People ask where my is at
I say check the liner notes, I 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
Meet demands but they all are
At shows, my riders always the
I need four of fried poultry carcass
And red chartered from Charlotte
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
measles, mumps, I made you bitches
I don't need you chumps, got cheese and I need my chunks
Hurry up, so I can go to burn rubber and get more dunks

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

[Verse 9:
I'll do a hundred-yard dash to slash Kim Kardash in the ass
With a of glass from Nick Hogan's car crash
You may look the passenger for that, don't be a smart ass
Yeah, while sit there thinking that the hard part passed
You ain't seen pain til Leatherface flips,
I'll cut ya fucking off homie, my saw's off the chain
I chopped the bitch in with it, sawed off her legs
And the top half of the torso crawled off and sang
I ain't seen like that since I went to Mike Jack's
And took the Man's skull, fucked it, and put it right 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 taking it back, faggot, fuck that
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