Luyện nghe bài hát Barry Horowitz

"His opponent St. Petersburg, Florida"
"Two thirty-one pounds, Barry 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 that in
no "Cat in the Hat, " just a cat that can rap
This is Bronson - representing Flushing, on the map
Yeah - heavyweight primate with a Harvard
Blunts filled with the citrus mixed orange lime
Pussy drip when the thought of come to mind
Born to ride, winter spring summer
Bonafide, eyes wide, run and
You don't want the to be televised
Terrorfied from the Arab death camps
With the burning hot, give you chest stamps
Phone calls with the over the mouthpiece
or without leaf, burn about an ounce chief
To the like a razor for the stubble
Raised inside the struggle, in the huddle 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 Barry Horowitz rap, I pat on the back
Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk, I attack
the window to your soul, weed inside my lungs burn
These old gettin placed into a young urn
Specialized 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 flicker, I'm on a solo mission
Started at pole position, on the long 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
your ho sniff 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 Ross:] "Barry Horowitz, likes to pat himself on the back"