Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn's Finest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And baby
My flow's malicious, delicious
three wishes, made my road to riches
From 62's, gem stars, my dishes
Gram choppin', police van
D's at my doors

What? Keep
No more, Mister Guy, I twist your shit
The fuck back with them pistols,
Hot like cajun, hotter than holdin' work at the
Days Inn with New plates outside
Get up outta there, fuck ride

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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