Luyện nghe bài hát Brooklyn Style... Laid Out

Come on y'all and feel the
Get on down and make move
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, laid out this

Come on and feel the groove
Get on down and make your
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, laid out like

I kicks the good, to represent the neighborhood
Where I come from, and the place of Brooklyn
Where the are born and bred
And bullets are eyeballs, two to the head

Well is it Brownsville? Time to for the map
where the smoke blunts and like to wear mad gold caps
The party about to explode
the 1-1-2, the double-3 ill zip code

Parlayin' on the corner, drinkin' shootin' Cee-Lo
a Brooklyn thing, aight? You know our steelo
And for who just don't know how it go
Play a substitute teacher and act like you know

So yo, who wanna set it? You better your best G
You and your whole entourage test me
I for the fo' main
And if you're not a bandit, then niggaz can't hang

Come on y'all and feel the
Get on and make your move
Welcome to the
Brooklyn style, out like this

Now, let's get straight down to the
I represent for Brooklyn joint
pah, where we're takin' it to
Makin' a few don't mean you gotta forget
Where you come from and try to be
you're really not and front with what you got

You're gonna be looked at as a black man so keep it real
What type of can I say you on?
you musta done changed to some Grey Poupon, heh
I'm really to see you blew up

But remember my man you grew up
In the PJ's all your life, in a broken
Well now
Up in the all your life, keepin' it strong, what

I be the Louis Ave livin', live long lover
Bonafied black brother, to the mother
Skilled at at hand with those who made
The man with support and always a fan

My dialectic is perfected
In you can't imagine rap bein' accepted
Funk'll slam a doper jam, pops
I'm takin mine like taxes Uncle Sam
So check out the Asiatic of flow
Like water in the Nile, but it's style

Come on y'all and the groove
Get on down and your move
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, out like this

Yo, is Big Scoob, no practice
I'm flippin' on niggaz little kids on that mattress
You know my style, Baby Pah from the
My lyrics so dope, they too fat for local

So hear me out, no doubt, no need for
My boys in the back, clockin' your jewels, and they
Why did step to me, I hit 'em, bow, bu-dow
out his fronts 'cause the kid was mad fragile

No need for chief I'm rollin' mad deep
So pick up your teeth, I got him shakin' like a
Not tryin' to you, I just wanna aware you
I bet you won't look at my face
(What, what, what)
I you

Yo nigga please, yo I'm nice with
While guardin' your grill
I'll be up your kidneys
Me and my boys the fat tec 9's
with my joint cocked back, in case a punk tried to take

Where I'm from there's no need for
We cock and squeeze, now where's the doctor for this
He's drippin' and now he's down to his last breath
But he won't make it, cause he knows that my is def

The ill, of Brooklyn artist
who rocks the har-dest,
who you know and where you're I pull your file
(How?)
Brooklyn

Come on y'all and feel the
Get on down and make your
to the funkiest
Brooklyn style, laid out this