Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn's Finest

Okay, I'm
You motherfuckers, you big time?
with Jay-Z, you gon' die, big time
Here the, "Pain"

Jigga, jigga, bigga,
Nigga, how you figure, how you
Yeah, yeah, yeah,

the style and the way the cops sweat us
The one question is can the feds get us
I got vendettas in dice games ass betters
And niggaz who pump wheels and Jettas
Take that

Hit ya, split ya, fuck fist fights and lame scuffles
Pillow case to your face, make the shell
Shoot your daughter in the calf
Fuck a tussle,
Sprinkle on the floor, make it drug related
Most it

Can't fade it while y'all pump Willie, I run up in stunts
Scared, so you sent little mans to come kill me
But on the contrilli, I packs the
Squeezed off on him, left paramedics
Breathin' on him
What's ya

Who shot ya? Mob ties Sinatra
tried to do me in, I ain't paid them yet
Tryin' to push 700's, they ain't them yet
Rolex and is frostbit, rings too
'round the way call me Igloo Stix, who?

Jay-Z and Smalls
shit ya drawers
Where you
Brooklyn, out for all
Marcy, that's right, you don't
Bed-Stuy, you won't stop,

What, what,
Jay-Z, Big' Smalls, shit ya drawers
Brooklyn represent y'all, hit you
You crazy, think little bit of rhymes can play me?
I'm Marcy, I'm varsity, chump, you're JV
Jigga,

And baby
My Bed-Stuy flow's malicious,
Fuck three wishes, made my road to
62's, gem stars, my moms dishes
Gram choppin', van dockin'
D's at my knockin'

What? rockin'
No more, Mister Guy, I twist your shit
The fuck with them pistols, blazin'
Hot cajun, hotter than even holdin' work at the
Days Inn with New York outside
Get up outta there, fuck your

Keep your hands high, shit gets steeper comes
The Grim Reaper, Frank Wright, leave the to your
In-tegra, that's right, chill homie, the bitch in the Shoney's me
You're holdin' more drugs than a pharmacy, you harmin' me
So pardon me, pass the safe, before I the place
And here's six shots just in case,

Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, shit ya drawers
Where you from? Brooklyn out to all
Crown Heights, you don't
Brownsville, you stop, nigga, Brooklyn
Hah hah, Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya
Where we from? Brooklyn out to all
Bushwick, you stop
Greene, you won't stop, niggaz

Yeah, yeah,
For nine six, the only MC with a
Yeah I rhyme sick, I be you're tryin' to do
a fortune off Peru, extradite, China white heron
Nigga please, like short sleeves I arms
out my way from here on clear? Gone

Me and had two spots
The two for five dollar hits, the blue
Gotta go, mean it's gettin' "Too Hot"
If Fay' had
She'd probably have
Get it?

Time to separate the pros the cons
The platinum from the
butter soft shit from that leather on the Fonz
A S1 from a eye class don
A Dom' sipper from a Rosay nigga, huh?
Brook-Nam, on

forever, play the crib when it's mink weather
The M.A.F.I.A. canons
In they Marc usually cuatro cinco
The shell sink slow, ya
Mad slugs your Nautica
I'm warnin' ya, hah, the fuck?

and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya drawers
Where you Brooklyn goin' out to all
Flatbush, you stop
Redhook, you won't stop, nigga,
Jay-Z and Biggie Smalls, nigga shit ya
you from? Brooklyn goin' out to all
East New York, you stop
Hill, you won't stop, nigga
Is Brooklyn in the

Roc-A-Fella, y'all, M.A.F.I.A.
Superbad click, Brooklyn's
You this
BK to the fullest