Luyện nghe bài hát Barry Horowitz

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

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

To the with the hat, lean back in the 'llac
the window, hear the soldier styles and that in back
Ain't no "Cat in the Hat, " just a cat can rap
This is Bronson - Flushing, Queens on the map
Yeah - primate with a Harvard mind
Blunts filled with the mixed with orange lime
drip when the thought of Action come to mind
Born to ride, winter spring shine
Bonafide, wide, run and hide
You want the revolution to be televised
Terrorfied the Arab mountain death camps
the iron burning hot, give you chest stamps
Phone with the cloth over the mouthpiece
or without leaf, burn about an ounce chief
To the like a razor for the stubble
Raised inside the struggle, blazin in the 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 Barry rap, I pat myself on the back
Don't fake the on a nasty dunk, Shaq I attack
Close the window to your soul, weed inside my lungs
These old suckers gettin into a young urn
like the little bus
Use my chubby little finger first to the clitoris
Kong ain't got shit on us
I'm out here gettin it for real you motherfuckers filibust'
Weed in my finger flicker, I'm on a solo
Started at pole position, on the long division
As it burn my thumb, I another one
persistant, that's why they call me my mother's son
Shoot the cold gift, your ho stiff
Make your ho sniff and the Blowfish
Obey the coke
Cause every motherfucker in loaded, I'm on that old shit!

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

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