Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn Style... Laid Out

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

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

I kicks the good, to represent the neighborhood
Where I come from, and the place of Brooklyn
Where the grimies are and bred
And bullets are eyeballs, two to the head

Well is it Time to represent for the map
where the peeps smoke and like to wear mad gold caps
The party addict about to
From the 1-1-2, the double-3 ill zip

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

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 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 straight down to the
I represent for Brooklyn joint
Baby pah, where takin' it to
Makin' a few dollars don't mean you gotta
Where you come from and try to be
That you're really not and front what you got

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

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

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

My dialectic is perfected
In ways you can't rap bein' accepted
Funk'll slam a doper jam, pops
I'm takin mine like with Uncle Sam
So check out the Asiatic type of
Like water in the Nile, but it's style

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

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

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

No for beef chief I'm rollin' mad deep
So pick up your teeth, I got him shakin' like a
Not tryin' to scare you, I just 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' your
I'll be beatin' up 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 for hesitation
We cock and squeeze, now where's the doctor for patient?
He's drippin' blood and now down to his last breath
But he won't make it, cause he knows that my is def

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

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