Luyện nghe bài hát Clientele Kidd

(featuring Fat Joe, Killah & Polite)

Raekwon]
Yo straight up last minute, you know time it is
up, yeah, 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
Layin in the crib ill money, those who 8 hours get gig
Got on and 4/5ths
Attractin' them I go against, the money was his
One nasty unit of murderers, all of Goons'll watch
Then minutes later they burgulars
I heard from the mine made it
Elevate the name up, this gift gotta reign and his went up
And now he's stronger than ever, Nike and Classics
Go it and it's instant vendettas
He run things, gun down Kings, check the 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 missin' somethin'
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 y'all niggaz on consignment
CHEF! To the death and he climbin'

Joe]
uh
Yo Don bomb harder over nearly everybody
Very rarely you find me 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 play
I don't what you heard but, we don't play around
It's cooked coke, but look, but the fuck happened?
How you the dope game to persue rappin'?
knowin' that ya shit was trash
Breathin' hard on the mic 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 set it when we get in the yard
Whether or Comstock, triggers 'pon cock
punch in ya lung and you niggaz gon' drop

x2]

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

x2]

x4]