Luyện nghe bài hát Barry Horowitz

"His from St. Petersburg, Florida"
"Two thirty-one pounds, Barry Horowitz! "

[Action
Yeah, the T.A
[?]. yeah

To the back with the hat, back in the 'llac
Crack the window, hear the styles and that in back
Ain't no "Cat in the Hat, " a cat that can rap
This is Bronson - Flushing, Queens on the map
Yeah - heavyweight primate a Harvard mind
Blunts with the citrus mixed with orange lime
Pussy drip when the of Action come to mind
Born to ride, spring summer shine
Bonafide, eyes wide, run and
You don't want the to be televised
Terrorfied from the Arab mountain death
With the burning hot, give you chest stamps
Phone calls with the over the mouthpiece
With or without leaf, burn about an chief
To the like a razor for the stubble
Raised inside the struggle, blazin in the yeah
Dig a hole, throw the in it
the slippers in the sand motherfuckers couldn't stand in it

("Someone took the words to my song") [ding ding

It's Horowitz rap, I pat myself on the back
Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk, Shaq I
Close the to your soul, weed inside my lungs burn
These old suckers gettin into a young urn
Specialized like the bus
Use my little finger first to stimulate the clitoris
King ain't got shit on us
I'm out here gettin it for real you motherfuckers filibust'
Weed in my flicker, I'm on a solo mission
Started at position, eyes on the long division
As it my thumb, I roll another one
Quite persistant, that's why they call me my son
the cold gift, leave your ho stiff
Make ho sniff Hootie and the Blowfish
Obey the king
Cause every motherfucker in rockin loaded, I'm on old shit!

("Someone took the words to my song")

[Jim Ross:] "Barry Horowitz, always to pat himself on the back"