Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

Music please, yes, welcome to 'Jealous One's
like to thank you in advance for purchasing this product
It is a Records' product, artist, Fat Joe, my name is KRS-One
And of course we're gonna bring the noise, 'cause we can never be

Yes, I am the ultimate, ultimatum's for the fun of it
It appears to me you don't know who you with
You can't see this bifocals cause you're local
Can't hang my vocals, better you fuck with Sonny Bono

Or Ono, but KRS, oh, no, no
You might think you a ROTC, but I don't give a though
I'm rolling hard God for the squad black
Packin' them poppers bitch, where that be at?

I be the show stopper, as I shine like gold
Other rappers dull like copper, the fake nigga dropper
Which borough, is the
I know, do you know, let me know I'm sayin'

The coke connector, sweating leather reflectors
Don't get up in my sector, or I'ma haveta inject ya
With a slab of lyrical dope shit
Fake MC's and wannabe's best to this

Fat Joe the true and living will
Kingpin like up in Bronx Tale
Will I I doubt it
I'm the nigga bodies, while other niggaz fantasize about it

True indeed, my back MC's claim they can serve me
In my they screaming, "We're not worthy"
Youse a has been, you ain't been
I be touring, while you be taping

So what punk, you could battle in a
Frankly the line, is where's your hit record
You claim I'm jocking, claim I'm on dick, where's your witnesses?
If I'm on dick my name has got to be syphillis

If you're feeling lucky duck, press your luck
Up, up, up and away 'cuz I don't clown
If you're feeling lucky duck, then your luck
Buck, buck, buck take that witcha on the way

As we proceed to it down, don't get it fucked up
We be the of the Boogie Down
All we do is spark izm and get
MC's like that warden up in Alcatraz
(Bo, bo, bo, bo)

It's Fat Joe, yo, you know my
Get so much love, I'm payin' sixteen on a
Sendin' niggaz outta town, got control of the Boogie Down
Now how the you sound?
(Yeah)

Ain't no army that could me or bomb me
C'mon G, you ain't got a fucking thing on me
I'm like white linen
(Tell 'em)
Your rap is under pressure like two outs tied score in the ninth

I'm down with Kris and no stopping me
I'm out for Bronx and with chicks on top of me
my philosophy, but for now it's in the corridor
Slappin' like a ball, hittin' hard to my labrador
These motherfuckers want it
(Word to Joe, these niggaz don't want it)

If you're feeling lucky duck, then press luck
Up, up, up and away I don't play clown
If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your
Buck, buck, buck, take that witcha on the way

Merrrcy, you wanna serve me but you worthy
My is too curvy, what you tellin' me
But flimsy ass will go home after the battle and find I'm your boss
With up in your memory

I know your kind, you rap
You're Mr. John Gotti, the Don, but you're just another mon
Telecro bwotty mon, how you
Rap magazine dating to, Tougher than Leather

The only you got, such an extensive rap collection
'Cuz most of your rap mags are all stuck
Watch what you sayin', watch you say
When skull gets cracked, whatcha gonna say crackhead?

file is dead, kneel to the rap God in bed
'Fore I slap you way in the dayz like Ahmad
Don't get me fed up or vexed up 'cuz get set up
My don't let up, I be dead up in this piece
(Tell 'em)
Recognize it's BlastMaster
For ten years, Fat Joe, chillin' on the