Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

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

Yes, I am the ultimate, uttering 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 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 a fuck though
I'm rolling hard God for the squad black
Packin' poppers bitch, where that money be at?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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
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 sixteen on a kilo
Sendin' outta town, still got control of the Boogie Down
Now how the you sound?
(Yeah)

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

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

If feeling lucky duck, then press 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 that witcha on the way

Merrrcy, you wanna me but you ain't worthy
My is too curvy, what you tellin' me
But your flimsy ass will go home after the and find I'm your boss
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 bwotty mon, how you
Rap magazine dating back to, Tougher Leather

The only reason you got, an extensive rap collection
'Cuz of your rap mags are all stuck together
what you sayin', watch what 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 back in the dayz like
Don't get me fed up or vexed up 'cuz get set up
My crew don't let up, I be up in this piece
(Tell 'em)
it's BlastMaster KRS-One
For ten years, Fat Joe, on the East