Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn Style... Laid Out

Come on and feel the groove
Get on down and make move
Welcome to the
Brooklyn style, out like this

Come on and feel the groove
Get on down and make your
Welcome to the
Brooklyn style, laid out like

I kicks the flavor good, to represent the
I come from, and that's the place of Brooklyn
Where the grimies are born and
And bullets are eyeballs, two to the head

Well is it Brownsville? to represent for the map
where the smoke blunts and like to wear mad gold caps
The party addict to explode
the 1-1-2, the double-3 ill zip code

Parlayin' on the corner, drinkin' shootin' Cee-Lo
It's a Brooklyn thing, aight? You know our
And for who just don't know how it go
Play like a substitute teacher and act like you

So yo, who wanna set it? You better kick your G
You and your whole entourage test me
I represent for the fo'
And if you're not a booty bandit, then niggaz hang

Come on y'all and the groove
Get on down and make your
Welcome to the
Brooklyn style, out like this

Now, let's get straight to the point
I for this Brooklyn joint
Baby pah, we're takin' it to
Makin' a few dollars don't mean you gotta
Where you from and try to be someone
you're really not and front with what you got

You're gonna be looked at as a black man still so keep it
type of mission can I say you on?
Because you musta done changed to some Poupon, heh
I'm really to see you blew up

But always remember my man you up
In the PJ's all your life, in a broken
alright now
Up in the PJ's all life, keepin' it strong, what

I be the Louis Ave livin', live long lastin'
Bonafied brother, word to the mother
Skilled at at hand with those who made
The man support and always stayed a fan

My dialectic is perfected
In ways you imagine rap bein' accepted
Funk'll like a doper jam, pops
I'm takin mine taxes with Uncle Sam
So check out the Asiatic type of
Like water in the Nile, but Brooklyn style

Come on and feel the groove
Get on down and make move
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, out like this

Yo, this is Big Scoob, no
I'm flippin' on like little kids on that mattress
You know my style, Pah from the PJ's
My lyrics so dope, they too fat for DJ's

So hear me out, no doubt, no need for
My boys in the back, clockin' your jewels, and schemin'
Why did they to me, I hit 'em, bow, bu-dow
Knocked out his fronts 'cause the kid was mad

No need for chief I'm rollin' mad deep
So pick up your teeth, I got him shakin' a leaf
Not tryin' to you, I just wanna aware you
I bet you even look at my face
(What, what, what)
I you

Yo nigga please, yo I'm with these
While you're your grill
I'll be up your kidneys
Me and my boys the fat tec 9's
with my joint cocked back, in case a tried to take mines

Where I'm from there's no for hesitation
We cock and squeeze, now where's the for this patient?
He's drippin' and now he's down to his last breath
But he make it, cause he knows that my joint is def

The ill, of Brooklyn artist
who rocks the har-dest,
who you know and you're from I pull your file
(How?)
style

Come on y'all and feel the
Get on down and make your
Welcome to the
Brooklyn style, laid out like