Luyện nghe bài hát Clientele Kidd

(featuring Fat Joe, Ghostface & Polite)

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

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

Aiyo Clientele
Layin in the crib gettin' ill money, those who 8 get gig
Got on and 4/5ths
them niggaz I go against, the money was his
One nasty unit of murderers, all type of watch
Then four minutes later they
I heard the grapevine mine made 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 instant vendettas
He run things, gun Kings, check the joint the kid flyin' in
Crib in Africa with two
Somethin' like the Prince of a jewel thief, so smack the
Came back wrapped it up, too
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 y'all niggaz bricks on
CHEF! To the death and he Billboard

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

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 lame as he look he to cook (yeah)
And he pleadin' for mercy, bleedin' from his dome and he
The week we made him eat shit!
Videotaped his wiz and I fucked his
Made him watch me on the couch fun with his kids
So what hurts more: is it me love to ya fam?
Or you in the box laid the floor?
Or keep you alive torchin' ya balls?
My chainsaw, ya bloods on my Scarface walls
Not even can clean that, Jack
We that maintenace man shit that 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]