Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn's Finest

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

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

the style and the way the cops sweat us
The number one is can the feds get us
I got vendettas in games against ass betters
And niggaz who wheels and drive Jettas
that witcha

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

Can't fade it while y'all pump Willie, I run up in stunts
Scared, so you sent your mans to come kill me
But on the contrilli, I the mack-milli
Squeezed off on him, left them
soft on him
What's ya

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

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

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

And Bigga
My flow's malicious, delicious
Fuck wishes, made my road to riches
From 62's, gem stars, my dishes
Gram choppin', van dockin'
D's at my knockin'

Keep rockin'
No more, Mister Nice Guy, I your shit
The fuck with them pistols, blazin'
Hot like cajun, hotter than even holdin' at the
Inn with New York plates outside
Get up outta there, fuck your

Keep hands high, shit gets steeper here comes
The Grim Reaper, Frank Wright, the keys to your
In-tegra, right, chill homie, the bitch in the Shoney's told me
holdin' more drugs than a pharmacy, you ain't harmin' me
So pardon me, the safe, before I blaze the place
And six shots just in case, Brooklyn

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

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

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

to separate the pros from the cons
The from the bronze
That butter soft shit from leather on the Fonz
A S1 diamond from a eye don
A Cham' Dom' sipper from a nigga, huh?
Brook-Nam, on

Cristal forever, play the crib when mink weather
The M.A.F.I.A. canons
In they Marc Buchanans usually cinco
The sink slow, tossin' ya
Mad slugs through Nautica
I'm warnin' ya, hah, what the

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

Roc-A-Fella, y'all, M.A.F.I.A.
Superbad click, finest
You rewind
BK to the fullest