Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn Style... Laid Out

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

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

I kicks the flavor good, to the neighborhood
I come from, and that's the place of Brooklyn
Where the grimies are and bred
And are like eyeballs, two to the head

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

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

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

on y'all and feel 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 this Brooklyn
pah, where we're takin' it to
Makin' a few dollars mean you gotta forget
Where you come and try to be someone
you're really not and front with 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 done changed to Grey Poupon, heh
I'm really happy to see you up

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

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

My dialectic style is
In you can't imagine rap bein' accepted
Funk'll slam a doper jam, pops
I'm takin mine taxes with Uncle Sam
So check out the 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
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 the PJ's
My lyrics so dope, too fat for local DJ's

So me out, no doubt, no need for screamin'
My in the back, clockin' your jewels, and they schemin'
Why did step to me, I hit 'em, bow, bu-dow
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 tryin' to you, I just wanna aware you
I bet you won't even look at my
(What, what, what)
I you

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

Where I'm from there's no for hesitation
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 won't make it, cause he knows my joint is def

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

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