Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn Style... Laid Out

Come on y'all and feel the
Get on down and your move
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, laid out this

on y'all and feel the groove
Get on down and your move
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, laid out this

I the flavor good, to represent the neighborhood
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 peeps smoke blunts and like to mad gold caps
The party about to explode
From the 1-1-2, the double-3 ill zip

Parlayin' on the corner, drinkin' 40's shootin'
It's a Brooklyn thing, aight? You our steelo
And for those who don't know how it go
Play like a teacher and act like you know

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

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

Now, let's get down to the point
I represent for Brooklyn joint
Baby pah, we're takin' it to
Makin' a few dollars don't mean you forget
you come from and try to be someone
That you're really not and front with you got

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

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

I be the Ave livin', live long lastin' lover
Bonafied black brother, to the mother
Skilled at trades at with those who made
The man with support and always a fan

My dialectic style is
In ways you can't imagine rap accepted
Funk'll slam a doper jam, pops
I'm takin mine like taxes Uncle Sam
So out the Asiatic type of flow
Like water in the Nile, but Brooklyn style

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

Yo, this is Big Scoob, no
I'm flippin' on niggaz like little kids on that
You know my style, Baby Pah 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' jewels, and they schemin'
Why did they step to me, I hit 'em, bow,
Knocked out his fronts the kid was mad fragile

No need for beef chief I'm mad deep
So pick up your teeth, I got him like a leaf
Not to scare you, I just wanna aware you
I bet you won't even at my face
(What, what, what)
I you

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

Where I'm from there's no need for
We cock and squeeze, now where's the doctor for 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, type of artist
who rocks the har-dest,
who you know and where you're from I your file
(How?)
style

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