Luyện nghe bài hát Sound Bwoy Bureill (remix #2)

Boom, bye, bye in a botty head
The shottie fly now, the botty ly like
2 shots dead to him chin, a friend
Fake the funk, I put the to an end

Now who da rude bwoy, wan tess dogg
I find his and ID 'em in da morgue
I bet you never I bust led
To prize, I'm a fortified head just like a dread

You can't tess the sound, you gettin' bucked down
Recognize the boot camp in a de Bucktown
Gun thirsty little bastard, blasted
From the sess of chocolate, from my gastin'

You say you one wicked selecta
I say you and I wetcha
Keep the bull I pull this here trigga
'Cause you don't wanna tess me, when I'm off the liquor

Like a punk call McGirt, got his feelings hurt
Showed his colors, had to yank up his skirt
Now he's in misery, tryin' to cop a
Led to his from gun clapper number 3
See, lick off a you no dick rida
Lick a shot punani, not gun

Now everybody be dongongon
All New York niggas be talkin' but we be stalkin'
In the docks when the gun starts
But in the day, be of where you be walkin'

Don't, don't,
You ever mention 'bout you wan tess the champion
Leave it to de people that can you know can
When people see a ball fa, leave

Me naw sex, me like the wicked you fe me
The motherfucker that be buggin' truth you see
Original run in town, crime pays
when I practiced your act, if you wan get blasted

By my shot, come around my block
Pon the night
In the box, Murderah, Botty bwoy killa
power filla, we 'bout to get illa/

Sound bwoy, ya got nuff to worry
Cummin' wit my troops, we about to
Betta pack ya dubs and in a hurry
Ease off

Lookin' at my pager, it's about that
To up the 9 and do my derelict crime
Warriors, conquerors, the man ya
Mr. Ripper, AKA, the killa
My man wit the weed, is my man in
And all you sucky-ducky catch nots wit speed

Talkin' 'bout you have sound, ah, my sound you wan
You know that when it comes to championship
Is we dat have de
And carry mack, use you for good use 'cuz wee de crew, leave

Laud, some wan get dead tonite, duke
As I the 2-5 from my timboots
pon sight, trick up and cock
Adjust your pupils to see a dead bwoy

Nuff gwan die dis year
comes the bootcamp, slide it to the rear
It's the rain cummin' like a hurricane shots
More untouchable niggas wit de chicken pox

So emcees get lifted I'm spliffted
Nigga ya grill 'cause Louisville packs the biscuit
In the session, Smif-N-Wessun, O-G's see gun number 1
Wit my D O G

We bring the realness, feel this boom, it's Black Moon this
We come to let you know what the is
Straight up we serve justice, so if you be trusted
May you return where the is

is many sound that's goin' around and goin' on
And gwan like a clown but I'm tellin' you, up your act
And come to de 'cuz you a deadstock
From mornin' to de evenin', now changed