Luyện nghe bài hát Clientele Kidd

(featuring Fat Joe, Killah & Polite)

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

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

Aiyo Kidd
in the crib gettin' ill money, those who 8 hours get gig
Got on and 4/5ths
them niggaz I go against, the money was his
One unit of murderers, all type of Goons'll watch
Then minutes later they burgulars
I heard from the grapevine mine it
Elevate the name up, this gift gotta reign and his game up
And now he's than ever, Nike jackets and Classics
Go against it and it's vendettas
He run things, gun down Kings, the joint the kid flyin' in
Crib in Africa with two
Somethin' like the Prince of a jewel thief, so smack the
Came wrapped it up, too sweet
The game is somethin' unique
I put too much to fall back on, I just sleep

[Chorus x2:
CHEF! We designin', rhymin' Diamonds
CHEF! Ice Water, it was all in the
CHEF! He gave niggaz bricks on consignment
CHEF! To the and he Billboard climbin'

Joe]
uh
Yo Don Carta' bomb harder over nearly
Very rarely you me without the mini-shotti
Just for Rae to give met he cue and
you see about 100 Puerto niggaz shootin'
Get down, lay down, we don't around
I don't know what you heard but, we play around
It's cooked coke, but look, but the fuck happened?
How you leave the dope to persue rappin'?
Already knowin' that ya was trash
hard on the mic when yo' click is ass
All we tryin' to do is dignity to rap
And you kiddin' me? I'm literally the of that
Uh, we better than y'all, Terre-error the Squad
My niggaz set it when we get in the
Marcy or Comstock, triggers 'pon cock
Straight punch in ya lung and you gon' drop

x2]

[Ghostface
Yo yo yo him in his mouth.. (nah)
Fuck him, get the gasoline Terry to pull the act up
him to Rae warehouse, hang him from hooks then skin his ass
As lame as he he ready to cook (yeah)
And he pleadin' for mercy, bleedin' from his 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 what more: is it me showin' love to ya fam?
Or you in the box laid the floor?
Or keep you alive torchin' ya balls?
My murder chainsaw, ya bloods on my walls
Not even Ajax can that, Jack
We need that maintenace man that kill that greasy blood on contact
you off 'cause I'm pressed for time
Your man and 'em will be to die
Mothafucka!

x2]

x4]