Luyện nghe bài hát Tote Gunz

Yo Kenny Parker up!
(Whooooooooooo)
KRS in the
Yo these all talkin' about
They run this, run that
Motherfucker's don't run
KRS-one in piece
Ya'll battle?
go!

I tote gunz, I make runs
(Don't it)
I tote gunz, I make number
(Don't forget)
I tote gunz, I make number
(Let's take cats back)
I tote gunz, I make number
I tote gunz, I make runs
(What think)
I tote gunz, I make number
(Huh)
I tote gunz, I number runs
(Let's these cats Kenny)

They some hoes, watch they say
There's pictures of asses with price tags on Ebay
Deja vu the must be havin' glitches
I could have I just smashed these short bitches
You to look up to me
'Cause right now all ya'll rhymin' where my dick is
You lost, you can't believe
club is like Iraq you the U.S. you need to leave
Battle Kris? I'll blaze two guns
Have yo ass like Saddam's two sons
This that real shit
You look like some kid that got gassed watchin' 8 Mile
Now up your pride neo
How'd I you?
Did it have anything to do with the mic I through?
No, but if you get far
think you pussy
you are
why

I tote gunz, I make number
(That's right)
I tote gunz, I make number
(Don't it)
I tote gunz, I make runs
(New York)
I tote gunz, I number runs
(That's real)
I tote gunz, I make number
(New York)
I gunz, I make number runs
(Huh)
I tote gunz, I make number
(Yeah, in you forgot)
I tote gunz, I make runs

out, shoot out
Everybody up
You doubt, you
KRS, now you fucked
out, Poop out
Through your and your gut
Waive the Glock in your boy face what
You talk that junk, but you really all
smash you and your man
Com'on up
That's why I got to double
So I could buck buck buck you up
You a fan of rap
I'm the man of rap
I'm lookin' for where hip next land is at
You gettin' in my
Where cannon's at
First thing you get hit with is a panic
Then you the steel
Of the gat to back
Now you wonderin' why you said all that
You could've left way in the back
With his conscious raps and his old tracks
But

I gunz, I make number runs
(Huh Huh)
I tote gunz, I make number
(Huh Huh)
I gunz, I make number runs
(That's right)
I tote gunz, I number runs
(What, forgot?)
I tote gunz, I make runs
(What, you forgot?)
I tote gunz, I number runs
(ooooh)
I gunz, I make number runs
I tote gunz, I number runs

See, I'm the same guy that spit out "You Learn"
And "Spiritual Minded", but ya'll are not
You take shots at me, and disrespect
Tryin' to degrade my

Beat begins to fade

But nope, crazy
I'll watch your ooze out like cracked jars of turkey gravy
God me to slay thee
And get to it
No ifs buts or maybes