Luyện nghe bài hát Now Y

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

When I walk these streets, bamboo I'm strapped
Get your brain tapped by caliber gats
It like that, cats gotta learn to relax
If I let the gun clap, you have no wish, on your ass

If you see at cat his vest hangin' by his neck
Then LA done it, I'm tryin' to see this Benz
a fly bitch, a gat and cognac gettin' blunted
Readin' the tablet of my money from the kids that I
You don't it, shootin' slugs outta an armored green lex
From pounds that fuck you up like a plane wreck
Don't gamble a tech, car is quicker than the eye

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

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

New ain't fuckin' playas, we love gun sprayers
Movin' from the streets of Manhatt' to the Himalayans
Amadeus, why these craps tryin' to front?
Ass cut ropes, tryin' to bungee jump
cunt, all white planes roll, we night creepers
In coats, eight hundred beapers, force one sneakers
I stay fly, it down for my block
What up You could get a four-four shot

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

Kid, I'm amped, cats try to the originators
In Cruisers, on Timbs, subways and elevators
Holdin' steel, you frontin' niggaz better get
I'm gettin' money, blow my with a hundred dollar bill
How you feel? And where you at, it's where you from
To that cats, that's eighty-five, blind, 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' outta
If the east and kill each other, who gon' shine?
We losin' our mind, this rap is turnin' into crime
Nowadays soft niggaz bust techs and
So,