Luyện nghe bài hát Black Music

[chorus: MC
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing wit' T.B.S.
We're real thugs, the club

[Jim
Laaaaaaa... La, la, la, la...
BLOW! BLOW!
Niggas, please, leave the front of my
Hittin' grazed his chops, the block
His girl had a dick-belt and left you like a
You're up reason for cops
Was ready for competition
It's funny! You also came out of the
You could understand this matter
He it's a G, he thinks it's a porn star
I was again, I awoke from a bad dream
Damn! Niggaz stick me for my cream
You're insignificant a fuckin' dust
Don't step on the of my crib
You never one smoke wit' me

[chorus: MC
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing T.B.S. Thug
We're real thugs, shakin' the

Sound]
The motherfucker knows right
The motherfucker knows who leaves home at
I'm right and wrong
I've never wrong and you're never right
Any that song will be tight
the smoke, hitin' himself in the head
Life goes fast, out that slum
The isn't for everyone
The music is just one more
I'm a real shootin' at a fake killa
I'm a nigga rhyming to BX nigga
B.I. G.
I rhyme for to who wants to kill me

MC Quita][3X]
New York, Big Apple!
Now, sing wit' T.B.S.
We're thugs, shakin' the club

[MC
New York.. I run!
New York.. I run!
New York.. I run!
Singin' a star, I'll come

MC Quita][3X]
New York, Big Apple!
Now, wit' T.B.S. Thug
We're real thugs, the club