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, what we speak fo
If it ain't no lead, it ain't no beef, bro
You better get a leash cause freak ho
Specialize in wood like she Home
I'm Chico DeBarge, we stars
Roscoe P. Coltrane in bars, man
Amtrak, break her damn back, man
It's Ralph Lauren, ain't no damn Chaps
It's all I'm so pro though
You bird-crazy: El Pollo
Talking bout cheese and this no photo
Asking rings like the ho know Frodo
You better get out of my and shit
I think I threw up in my mouth a bit, I'm

[Verse 2: da 5'9"]
be lying, talking 'bout that, bust a heater
Once I see him, maybe more 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 head like Erykah Badu
I irony in being in a place
Where I'm wearing Gucci, getting White boy wasted
I a nigga, break bread or take lead
I'm get rid of this weight like K-Fed
Me and Denaun got a bond
We like that thang to you that ain't the prom
The next MC that rhyme official ref with a whistle
That ain't Young Money, I'mma definitely you
If you rhyming packing a Mac with of the Ac
Or perhaps you can't match my vernacular
You still rhyming with models, college for knowledge
Using the word swagger, probably garbage
You thugs funny, 5'9" to anybody
You comparing Superman to Bunny

[Verse 3:
I'm like a White Michael - Vick, enough to stick
Michael J. Fox in a microwave a Rott
I might a little 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 while I you
So dope he gets off opiates, what an
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 Hannibal ate his face and met Jason, off his leg
Amazing for razors and blades and anything sharp
Even darts; it all plays a major part of his game
Holy water won't ward him off, crucifixes do the trick
so sick, it's ridiculous; sawed the crazy part off his brain
He's still insane, why's there on his carpet, mane
There's crazy shit going on in Shady's apartment again

[Verse 4: Mr.
Okay, it's back to the blocks, slinging yay the old days
Superman on the beat, I carry my whole
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 anthrax 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 fry, small 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, Eli Porter stance

5: Royce da 5'9"]
Y'all should call Nickle the Don Bishop
A poet, a of Don Goines and John Grisham
Flow'll you rewinding it four or five times
That landmine rhyme written with porcupine
Step up in here the Slaughterhouse
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
ya said Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice
I can't even see the booth, I could fit shoe
I'm sick, I got the Eagle flu
I'm rich, lil' nigga, we don't a cent, we Teflon
The doctor tried to take blood, the bent, ask mom
Outta my if you can imagine
Magic's johnson without a condom, I'm bonkers
Got the going, dude, it's tremendous
If I for ya blood, I ain't gon' be using syringes

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

[Verse 7: Mr.
Look I'm sick, somebody get the Dimetapp
Who I gotta shoot just to prove I can rap?
People ask my shine is at
I say check the liner notes, I done done all crap
I am so of a star, bitch
That I can fart and piss on the red
Look, my bank retarded
My debit got a helmet and a harness, hey
Meet but they all are harmless
At shows, my always the largest
I need four of fried poultry carcass
And red M&Ms; 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 know the
If you play sick, we can all get ill
Look: measles, mumps, I made you
I don't need you chumps, y'all got cheese and I need my
Hurry up, so I can go to rubber and get some more dunks

[Verse 8: da 5'9"]
Now if your attitude your latitude
This 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 sweeper in
I call the mag a broom, you seeing beef, things
You had yourself a bag of shrooms, I make a call
'em fake a fall, my clique is too sick, say goodbye
In the streets where the stakes is like Ruth's Chris
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 everyday til Hex Murda get his regular voice back
Ras, I got ya, look scared at ya, from ya
a block away; ask Tricky, I'm that niggie
I'm mo hooder black dickies
I rap like committing suicide in the booth the track with me
Patrón's in my chromosomes, in order to it alone
You have to ween me off that 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 sound's plain as a cheeseburger nothing on it

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