Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

Music please, yes, welcome to 'Jealous Envy'
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 we're gonna bring the noise, 'cause we can never be toys

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

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

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

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

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

True indeed, behind my back claim they can serve me
In my face screaming, "We're not worthy"
a has been, actually you ain't been
I be touring, you be home taping

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

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

As we proceed to lock it down, get it fucked up
We be the of the Boogie Down
All we do is spark izm and get
Tortuing MC's that warden up in Alcatraz
(Bo, bo, bo, bo)

It's Fat Joe, yo, you my steelo
Get so much love, I'm payin' sixteen on a
Sendin' niggaz town, still 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 clowns ain't got a thing on me
I'm flashy white linen
(Tell 'em)
Your rap is under pressure like two outs score in the ninth inning

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

If feeling lucky duck, then press your luck
Up, up, up and away 'cuz I play clown
If you're feeling lucky duck, press your luck
Buck, buck, buck, take that on the way down

Merrrcy, you wanna serve me but you ain't
My style is too curvy, what you me
But your flimsy ass will go home after the battle and find I'm your
With up in your memory

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

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

file is dead, kneel to the rap God in bed
'Fore I slap you way back in the dayz like
Don't get me fed up or vexed up you'll get set up
My crew don't let up, I be dead up in piece
(Tell 'em)
Recognize BlastMaster KRS-One
For ten years, Fat Joe, on the East