Luyện nghe bài hát South Bronx

This what you call hardcore, fat gospel gospel

South, Bronx
Yo where my at?
South, Bronx
Yo where my is at?
South South,
C'mon let's it back
South South,

Raw for raw times
My albums are underground, but this blessing is all
And when tour time, we open more minds
You need to rethink who you is the "Greatest of All Time"
I got -- I'm raw like Freddie Foxxx is
Hardcore The LOX is, Scott LaRock is where Tupac is
Where hip-hop is, Digital-ly Underground like is
Oh yes -- I know the top is
But I'd rather rhyme about how crooked some of these is
My ain't pretty
I'd stay, off them plains and, out the city if I you
Do what you do
But while you wave them flags, Amadou Diallo
Here's we gotta do, follow
I'll put in you if you're hollow
Those already filled, still take swallows
Goin over with Tahoes
You think +I+ know? Huh! I'm lookin at you right now
You ain't dancin in the club, you in car, sittin down
You in the crib, on the low
You got them on the go
You just saw me at the oh you don't know?
It's the Temple of Hip-Hop, comin, with a whole flow
Yo where them hoes at? I know
But God at, I'ma go
I give 'em a hard rap and a
why when they call back for the show, with no video
We get up and go

Yo it started at?
South, Bronx
Yo where my at?
South, Bronx
Yo my heart is at?
South, Bronx
C'mon let's it back
South South,

South South,
Yo my people at?
South South,
Yo where my is at?
South, Bronx
C'mon bring it back
South South,

Peep it out while I ya like this
In single hood in the world I'm called Kris
the, truth for ya, it's the proof for ya
My passes more bars than lawyers
The underground sound, this is not easily
You don't need no rings to be
This is, past the platinum and
We already had 'em, old
the truth if it be told, gather 'round
Philosopher style is to be wild
If you only holdin them guns, holdin your child?
You got to be thinkin you know that you
When the art of Navigation has been to a Lincoln
Change the dial! I was then and I'm free now
You free, runnin to MTV? I see how
You know the from the fake, you know they stealin they cake
You know it ain't about the art, it's all about they make
You know the radio's late, you know play what you hate
That's why you got that Kay Slay tape, to escape
You know the of the cars and the rims
Tattooed and Timbs, are also called sins
You know you got to pay for spins
You the rap magazines be wack from beginning to the end
BO

South South,
Yo where my at?
South South,
Yo where my is at?
South, Bronx
C'mon let's bring it
South South,

I was a king and I'm not the Pres
I'm a teacher like that reefer goin straight to head
I'm a preacher tryin to bring my people from the dead
I'm a leader tryin to you all away from the feds
You my I'll be tryin to get you out of the bed
I'm a philospher what has got to be said
I don't fill you lead, I bring that knowledge instead
Follow this dread, I'll take you A to Zed
Who am I? Just a scholar called
You can spend your money on others but ain't blessed
You can spend your money drugs and still be
Look around for conscious yo there ain't none left
I'm holdin it yet I'm holdin up
Waitin for some young to come and sip from the cup
And continue with the menu new knowledge in you
I got a question and a lesson cause I what you been through
But

South South,
Yo where my at?
South South,

Yo where it at?
South South,
Yo my people at?
South, Bronx
Yo my heart is at?
South South,
let's bring it back
South South,

The South Bronx, boyeee