Luyện nghe bài hát Barry Horowitz

"His from St. Petersburg, Florida"
"Two thirty-one pounds, Barry Horowitz! "

[Action
Yeah, the T.A
Bronsalinio [?].

To the back with the hat, lean back in the
Crack the window, hear the styles and that in back
no "Cat in the Hat, " just a cat that can rap
This is Bronson - representing Flushing, on the map
- heavyweight primate with a Harvard mind
Blunts filled with the citrus mixed with orange
Pussy drip when the of Action come to mind
Born to ride, winter summer shine
Bonafide, eyes wide, run and
You don't want the to be televised
Terrorfied from the Arab death camps
the iron burning hot, give you chest stamps
Phone calls with the cloth the mouthpiece
With or without leaf, about an ounce chief
To the like a razor for the stubble
Raised inside the struggle, blazin in the yeah
Dig a hole, the lamb in it
Left the slippers in the sand couldn't stand in it

("Someone the words to my song") [ding ding ding]

Barry Horowitz rap, I pat myself on the back
Don't the funk on a nasty dunk, Shaq I attack
Close the to your soul, weed inside my lungs burn
These old suckers placed into a young urn
Specialized like the bus
Use my chubby finger first to stimulate the clitoris
Kong ain't got shit on us
I'm out gettin it for real while you motherfuckers filibust'
Weed in my finger flicker, I'm on a solo
Started at pole position, eyes on the long
As it burn my thumb, I another one
Quite persistant, that's why call me my mother's son
Shoot the cold gift, leave ho stiff
Make ho sniff Hootie and the Blowfish
Obey the king
Cause every in rockin loaded, I'm on that old shit!

("Someone the words to my song") [x2]

[Jim Ross:] "Barry Horowitz, always to pat himself on the back"