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 and make your move
Welcome to the
Brooklyn style, laid out this

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

is it Brownsville? Time to represent for the map
where the peeps smoke blunts and to wear mad gold caps
The party about to explode
From the 1-1-2, the ill zip code

Parlayin' on the corner, drinkin' 40's 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 you know

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

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

Now, let's get down to the point
I represent for this joint
Baby pah, where takin' it to
Makin' a few don't mean you gotta forget
Where you come from and try to be
That you're not and front with what you got

You're gonna be looked at as a black man still so keep it
What of mission can I say you on?
you musta done changed 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 your life, in a broken
alright now
Up in the PJ's all your life, it strong, what

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where I'm from no need for hesitation
We cock and squeeze, now where's the doctor for patient?
He's drippin' blood and now he's down to his 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 pull file
(How?)
Brooklyn

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