Luyện nghe bài hát Bronx Tale

Music please, yes, to 'Jealous One's Envy'
We'd like to thank you in for purchasing this product
It is a 'Relativity Records' product, artist, Fat Joe, my is KRS-One
And of course we're bring the noise, 'cause we can never be toys

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

Or Ono, but KRS, oh, no, no
You might think you a ROTC, but I give a fuck though
I'm rolling hard like God for the squad
Packin' them poppers bitch, that money be at?

Aiyyo I be the stopper, as I shine like gold
rappers dull like copper, the certified fake nigga dropper
Which borough, is the
I know, do you know, let me know I'm though

The coke connector, sweating with reflectors
get caught up in my sector, or I'ma haveta inject ya
With a slab of this dope shit
Fake MC's and wannabe's to quote this

Fat Joe the true and will prevail
Kingpin like up in Bronx Tale
Will I I doubt it
I'm the nigga catchin' bodies, while other fantasize about it

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

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

If you're feeling lucky duck, then your luck
Up, up, up and away 'cuz I don't play
If feeling lucky duck, then press your luck
Buck, buck, buck that witcha 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)

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

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

I'm with Kris and ain't no stopping 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 like a ball, hard to my labrador
motherfuckers don't want it
(Word to mother Joe, these don't want it)

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

Merrrcy, you serve me but you ain't worthy
My is too curvy, what you tellin' me
But your flimsy ass will go home after the battle and find I'm boss
With KRS-One up in your

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

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

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