Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

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

Yes, I am the ultimate, ultimatum's for the fun of it
It appears to me you don't who you fuckin' with
You can't see this bifocals cause you're local
Can't hang with my vocals, better you fuck 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 like God for the squad black
them poppers bitch, where that money be at?

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

The coke connector, sweating with reflectors
get caught up in my sector, or I'ma haveta inject ya
With a of this lyrical dope shit
Fake MC's and wannabe's to quote this

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

True indeed, behind my back MC's claim 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 what punk, you could in a second
Frankly the bottom line, is your hit record
You claim I'm jocking, claim I'm on your dick, where's your
If I'm on your my name has got to be syphillis

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merrrcy, you serve me but you ain't worthy
My style is too curvy, you tellin' me
But your flimsy ass will go home the battle and find I'm your boss
With KRS-One up in memory

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

The reason you got, such an extensive rap collection
'Cuz most of your rap mags are all stuck
Watch what you sayin', watch you say
When your skull gets cracked, whatcha 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 up 'cuz you'll get set up
My crew let up, I be dead up in this piece
(Tell 'em)
Recognize it's BlastMaster
For ten years, Fat Joe, chillin' on the