Luyện nghe bài hát Clientele Kidd

(featuring Fat Joe, Ghostface & Polite)

[Intro:
Yo straight up last minute, you know what it is
Word up, yeah, yeah,
Word up, blip blap blap blap
up?

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

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

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

[Fat
uh
Yo Don Carta' bomb harder over nearly
Very rarely you find me the mini-shotti
Just waitin' for Rae to met he cue and
you see about 100 Puerto niggaz shootin'
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 dope to persue rappin'?
Already knowin' that ya shit was
Breathin' hard on the mic yo' click is ass
All we tryin' to do is bring to rap
And you me? I'm literally the epitome of that
Uh, we better than y'all, Terre-error the Squad
My set it when we get in the yard
Whether Marcy or Comstock, '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, him from hooks then skin his ass
As as he look he ready to cook (yeah)
And he pleadin' for mercy, bleedin' his dome and he thirsty
The first week we him eat shit!
Videotaped his wiz and I his bitch
him watch me on the couch havin' fun with his kids
So what hurts more: is it me love to ya fam?
Or you in the box laid under the
Or keep you blow torchin' ya balls?
My murder chainsaw, ya bloods on my walls
Not Ajax can clean that, Jack
We need that maintenace man that kill that greasy blood on contact
Finish you off 'cause I'm for time
man and 'em will be next to die
Mothafucka!

x2]

x4]