Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

Music please, yes, welcome to One's Envy'
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It is a Records' product, artist, Fat Joe, my name is KRS-One
And of course we're gonna bring the noise, 'cause we can never be

Yes, I am the ultimate, ultimatum's for the fun of it
It appears to me you know who you fuckin' with
You can't see with bifocals cause you're local
Can't hang my vocals, better you fuck with Sonny Bono

Or Ono, but KRS, oh, no, no
You might you a ROTC, but I don't give a fuck though
I'm rolling hard like God for the squad
Packin' them bitch, where that money be at?

I be the show stopper, as I shine like gold
Other rappers dull like copper, the fake nigga dropper
borough, is the thorough
I know, do you know, let me know I'm sayin'

The connector, sweating leather with reflectors
Don't get up in my sector, or I'ma haveta inject ya
With a slab of lyrical dope shit
Fake and wannabe's best to quote this

Fat Joe the true and living will
Kingpin like up in Bronx Tale
Will I fail? I it
I'm the nigga bodies, while other niggaz fantasize about it

True indeed, behind my back claim they can serve me
In my face screaming, "We're not worthy"
Youse a has been, actually you ain't
I be touring, while you be taping

So what punk, you battle in a second
Frankly the bottom line, is where's your hit
You claim I'm jocking, claim I'm on your dick, your witnesses?
If I'm on dick my name has got to be syphillis

If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your
Up, up, up and away 'cuz I don't clown
If you're feeling lucky duck, then press luck
Buck, buck, buck take that on the way down

As we proceed to lock it down, don't get it up
We be the kings of the Down
All we do is spark izm and get
Tortuing MC's that warden up in Alcatraz
(Bo, bo, bo, bo)

It's Fat Joe, yo, you know my
Get so much love, I'm sixteen on a kilo
Sendin' niggaz outta town, got control of the Boogie Down
Now how the fuck you
(Yeah)

Ain't no army that could me or bomb me
C'mon G, you ain't got a fucking thing on me
I'm flashy white linen
(Tell 'em)
Your rap is under like two outs tied score in the ninth inning

I'm down with Kris and ain't no me
I'm out for Bronx and Monopoly with on top of me
It's my philosophy, but for now in the corridor
Slappin' caps a ball, hittin' hard to my labrador
motherfuckers don't want it
(Word to mother Joe, these niggaz don't it)

If you're lucky duck, then press your luck
Up, up, up and away 'cuz I don't clown
If you're feeling lucky duck, then press your
Buck, buck, buck, take that on the way down

Merrrcy, you wanna me but you ain't worthy
My style is too curvy, what you me
But your flimsy ass will go home the battle and find I'm your boss
With up in your memory

I your kind, you rap write
You're Mr. Gotti, the Don, but you're just another bwotty mon
bwotty mon, how you collect
Rap magazine dating back to, Tougher Leather

The only reason you got, such an rap collection
'Cuz most of your rap are all stuck together
Watch what you sayin', what you say
When your skull gets cracked, whatcha gonna say

file is dead, kneel to the rap God in bed
'Fore I you way back in the dayz like Ahmad
Don't get me fed up or vexed up 'cuz get set up
My crew don't let up, I be dead up in piece
(Tell 'em)
it's BlastMaster KRS-One
For ten years, Fat Joe, on the East