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 Records' product, artist, Fat Joe, my name is KRS-One
And of course we're 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 don't 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 like God for the squad
Packin' them poppers bitch, where money be at?

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

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

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

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

So what punk, you could in a second
Frankly the bottom line, is your hit record
You I'm jocking, claim I'm on your dick, where's your witnesses?
If I'm on dick 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 feeling lucky duck, then press your luck
Buck, buck, buck that witcha on the way down

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 like that warden up in Alcatraz
(Bo, bo, bo, bo)

Fat Joe, yo, you know my steelo
Get so much love, I'm sixteen on a kilo
Sendin' niggaz town, still got control of the Boogie Down
Now how the fuck you
(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 like linen
(Tell 'em)
Your rap is pressure like two outs tied score in the ninth inning

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

If feeling 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, that witcha on the way down

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

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

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

Your file is dead, 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 don't let up, I be dead up in this piece
(Tell 'em)
it's BlastMaster KRS-One
For ten years, Fat Joe, on the East