Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

Music please, yes, welcome to 'Jealous Envy'
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 course we're gonna 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 my vocals, better you fuck with Sonny Bono

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

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

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

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

True indeed, my back MC's claim they can serve me
In my they screaming, "We're not worthy"
Youse a has been, actually you 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 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, press your luck
Up, up, up and away 'cuz I don't play
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)

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

no army that could harm 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 tied score in the inning

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

If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your
Up, up, up and away I don't play clown
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 worthy
My style is too curvy, what you me
But your flimsy ass will go home the battle and find I'm your boss
With KRS-One up in your

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

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

Your is dead, kneel to the rap God in bed
'Fore I you way back in the dayz like Ahmad
get me fed up or vexed up 'cuz you'll get set up
My crew don't let up, I be dead up in this
(Tell 'em)
Recognize it's KRS-One
For ten years, Fat Joe, chillin' on the