Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

Music please, yes, welcome to One's Envy'
We'd like to you in advance 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, 'cause we can never be

Yes, I am the ultimate, ultimatum's for the fun of it
It appears to me you know who you fuckin' with
You can't see this with bifocals cause 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 fuck
I'm rolling hard like God for the black
Packin' them poppers bitch, that money be at?

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

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

Fat Joe the true and will prevail
Kingpin like Sonny up in Tale
I fail? I doubt it
I'm the catchin' bodies, while other niggaz fantasize about it

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

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

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

As we to lock it down, don't get it fucked up
We be the kings of the Down
All we do is spark izm and get
Tortuing MC's like that 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, still got of the Boogie Down
Now how the fuck you
(Yeah)

Ain't no army could harm 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 under pressure like two outs score in the ninth inning

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

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

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

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

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

Your is dead, kneel to the rap God in bed
'Fore I slap you way back in the like Ahmad
Don't get me fed up or up 'cuz 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