Luyện nghe bài hát Barry Horowitz

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

Bronson:]
Yeah, the T.A
[?]. yeah

To the back with the hat, lean in the 'llac
Crack the window, hear the soldier styles and in back
Ain't no "Cat in the Hat, " a cat that can rap
This is - representing Flushing, Queens on the map
Yeah - heavyweight primate a Harvard mind
Blunts with the citrus mixed with orange lime
Pussy drip when the thought of Action to mind
Born to ride, spring summer shine
Bonafide, wide, run and hide
You don't want the to be televised
Terrorfied from the mountain death camps
With the burning hot, give you chest stamps
Phone calls with the over the mouthpiece
With or leaf, burn about an ounce chief
To the neck like a for the stubble
Raised inside the struggle, in the huddle yeah
Dig a hole, throw the in it
Left the slippers in the sand motherfuckers couldn't 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 on a nasty dunk, Shaq I attack
Close the window to your soul, inside my lungs burn
These old suckers gettin into a young urn
Specialized like the bus
Use my chubby little finger first to stimulate the
King Kong ain't got on us
I'm out here gettin it for real you motherfuckers filibust'
in my finger flicker, I'm on a solo mission
Started at pole position, eyes on the division
As it my thumb, I roll another one
persistant, that's why they call me my mother's son
Shoot the cold gift, leave your ho
Make your ho Hootie and the Blowfish
Obey the king
every motherfucker in rockin loaded, I'm on that old shit!

("Someone the words to my song") [x2]

[Jim "Barry Horowitz, always likes to pat himself on the back"