Luyện nghe bài hát Now Y

Yeah, yeah, yo, yo
Yeah, yeah, yo, trapacanti, yo

When I walk streets, like bamboo I'm strapped
Get brain tapped by forty-four caliber gats
It ain't like that, cats learn to relax
If I let the gun clap, you have no wish, on your ass

If you see at cat without his hangin' by his neck
Then LA done it, I'm to see this Benz six-hundred
With a fly bitch, a gat and cognac blunted
Readin' the tablet of my money the kids that I fronted
You want it, shootin' slugs outta an armored green lex
From four that fuck you up like a plane wreck
Don't gamble with a tech, car is quicker the eye

My style, top like the Bosnian spy
Now Y, New York have you in chalk
The South Bronx, what you thought when we let are guns
It's bloodsport, the call it like he sees
Been in buildings, doin' eighty in a M3
swingin' on linx, costin' 'bout ten G's
N.Y.C., where killas cops at me

I walk these streets, like bamboo I'm strapped
Get your brain tapped by fourty-four gats
It ain't like that, cats learn to relax
If I let the gun clap, you have no wish, on your ass

New York fuckin' playas, we love gun sprayers
crack from the streets of Manhatt' to the Himalayans
Amadeus, why these Cali craps to front?
Ass gotta cut ropes, to bungee jump
Tight cunt, all white planes roll, we creepers
In coats, eight hundred beapers, force one sneakers
I stay fly, it down for my block
What up ock? You get a four-four shot

And don't it can't happen 'cuz you on the TV rappin'
I from B.X., B.K. and the Staten
Manhatten and Queens kids for rings
New York, New York, the big city of
rap legends were put in jail, you thought we failed
Now I'm back like LL, he was rockin' the bells
Takin' rap back to the of food stamps and tramps
Pit stains in the case and vise-grip clamps

Kid, I'm amped, cats try to diss the
In Cruisers, on Timbs, subways and elevators
Holdin' steel, you frontin' better get real
I'm gettin' money, blow my nose with a hundred dollar
How you feel? And fuck you at, it's where you from
To cats, that's eighty-five, blind, deaf and dumb

Run and get gun, I come in the name of Allah
To my people, the Inglewood family swine, refined
You can't see, we runnin' time
If the and west kill each other, who gon' shine?
We losin' our mind, this rap is turnin' into crime
Nowadays niggaz bust techs and nines
So,