Luyện nghe bài hát Barry Horowitz

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

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

To the with the hat, lean back in the 'llac
Crack the window, hear the soldier and that in back
no "Cat in the Hat, " just a cat that can rap
This is Bronson - representing Flushing, on the map
- heavyweight 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, spring summer shine
Bonafide, eyes wide, run and
You don't want the revolution to be
Terrorfied from the Arab mountain death
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 the struggle, blazin in the huddle yeah
Dig a hole, the lamb in it
Left the slippers in the sand couldn't stand in it

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

Barry Horowitz rap, I pat myself on the back
Don't fake the funk on a nasty dunk, I attack
Close the window to soul, weed inside my lungs burn
These old gettin placed into a young urn
Specialized like the bus
Use my little finger first to stimulate the clitoris
Kong ain't got shit on us
I'm out here gettin it for real while you filibust'
in my finger 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, why they call me my mother's son
Shoot the cold gift, leave your ho
Make your ho sniff and the Blowfish
Obey the coke
Cause every in rockin loaded, I'm on that old shit!

("Someone took the words to my song")

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