Luyện nghe bài hát Clientele Kidd

(featuring Fat Joe, Killah & Polite)

Raekwon]
Yo up last minute, you know what time it is
up, yeah, yeah, yeah
Word up, blip blip blap blap
up?

[Hook x2:
Who don't know? They know, betta let 'em know
There they go, we go

Aiyo Kidd
Layin in the crib gettin' ill money, those who 8 get gig
Got rugby's on and
Attractin' them niggaz I go against, the was his
One nasty of murderers, all type of Goons'll watch
Then minutes later they burgulars
I heard from the grapevine mine it
Elevate the up, this gift gotta reign and his game went up
And now he's stronger than ever, jackets and Classics
Go against it and it's vendettas
He run things, gun down Kings, check the joint the kid in
in Africa with two lions
Somethin' like the Prince of a jewel thief, so smack the
back wrapped it up, too sweet
The game is somethin' unique
I put too much to fall back on, I rather sleep

x2: Polite]
CHEF! We designin', rhymin' with
CHEF! Ice Water, it was all in the
CHEF! He gave y'all niggaz bricks on
CHEF! To the and he Billboard climbin'

Joe]
uh
Yo Don Carta' bomb over nearly everybody
Very rarely you find me the mini-shotti
waitin' for Rae to give met he cue and
you see about 100 Puerto Rican niggaz
Get down, lay down, we play around
I don't know you heard but, we don't play around
It's coke, but look, but what the fuck happened?
How you leave the game to persue rappin'?
knowin' that ya shit was trash
Breathin' hard on the mic yo' click is ass
All we to do is bring dignity to rap
And you kiddin' me? I'm the epitome of that
Uh, we much than y'all, Terre-error the Squad
My niggaz set it when we get in the
Marcy or Comstock, triggers 'pon cock
Straight in ya lung and you niggaz gon' drop

x2]

[Ghostface
Yo yo yo him in his mouth.. (nah)
him, get the gasoline tell Terry to pull the act up
Bring him to Rae warehouse, hang him from then skin his ass
As lame as he look he to cook (yeah)
And he pleadin' for mercy, from his dome and he thirsty
The first week we him eat shit!
Videotaped his wiz and I his bitch
Made him me on the couch havin' fun with his kids
So hurts more: is it me showin' love to ya fam?
Or you in the box under the floor?
Or keep you alive blow ya balls?
My chainsaw, ya bloods on my Scarface walls
Not Ajax can clean that, Jack
We need that maintenace man that kill that greasy blood on contact
Finish you off I'm pressed for time
Your man and 'em be next to die
Mothafucka!

x2]

x4]