Luyện nghe bài hát Ether II

Fuck
up niggas, ay yo
I know you ain't talkin' me dog
You, Fuck Jay-Z
You on my dick nigga
You my style, nigga
Jay-Z"

(I)
Fuck with soul like ether
(Will)
you the king you know you
(Not)
"God's son", across the
(Lose)
I prove you lost

Brace for the main event
impatiently waitin'
It's like an AIDS test, what's the
Not positive, the best? Pac, Nas and Big

Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out,
I embrace with napalm
Blows up, no guts, left chest, face
How Nas be garbage?
at your cartilage

Burner at the of your dome, come outta my throne
I got this, since '9-1
I am the truest, a rapper that I ain't influenced
y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas
With Hawaiian' Sophie fame, my name in his music, check it

(I)
Fuck your soul like ether
(Will)
Teach you the king you you
(Not)
"God's son", the belly
(Lose)
I you lost already

Ay yo, me the weed
Pour my ashes out on niggas man
(No doubt)
Ay, faggots, y'all kneel
And kiss the ring

(I)
Fuck with your soul like
(Will)
Teach you the you know you
(Not)
"God's son", the belly
(Lose)
I prove you lost

I've been over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten
Luck ran out, hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten
Y'all just piss on me, on me, spit on my grave
Talk about me, laugh my back but in my face

Y'all "Well wishers", friendly actin', envy hidin' snakes
your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?
When these streets callin', heard it when I was sleep
That this and Cockafella Records wanted beef

cockin' up my weapon, slowly loadin' up this ammo
To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can
This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound
KRS already made an album called Blueprint

First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the
To say that you than Big
Dick suckin' lips, won't you let the late, great veteran
(I not lose)
"God's son" across the belly, I prove you already
The is back, where my crown at?
(Ill Will)
Ill Will rest in peace, do it niggas

(I)
Fuck your soul like ether
(Will)
Teach you the king you you
(Not)
"God's son", the belly
(Lose)
I you lost already

Y'all niggas deal with emotions like
What's sad is I love you 'cause my brother
You traded your soul for
My child, I've watched you grow up to be

And now I like a proud dad, watchin' his only son that made it
You to be only concerned with dissin' women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you
Well, life is hard, hug me, reject me

Or make records to disrespect me, or indirectly
In '88 you was gettin' chased through buildin'
Callin' my crib and I ain't even you my numbers
All I did was you a style for you to run with

Smilin' in my face, glad to bread with the God
Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no
Hawaiian shirts, hangin' with little Chase

You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a
I still whip ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you get brolic?
Ask me if I'm tryna' knowledge

Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to though
That ether, shit that make your soul burn slow
Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's

died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter
And that's the guy chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I hoes, y'all rock fellas
And now y'all try to take my spot,

Philly's hot fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my glock,
Foxy got you hot you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you girls now 'cause of your looks?

Negro please, you no mustache havin', whiskers like a rat
Compared to Beans you
And your man Un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from Jaz to with Caine, to Herb, to Big

And, murdered you on your own shit
You a dick-ridin' faggot, you the attention
Queens run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons
Ha, R O C get gunned up and quick

J.J. Evans get gunned up and quick
Your whole record label gunned up and clapped quick
Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick
So little shorty's gettin' gunned up and quick

How much of rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on last one of my classics
You pop shit, apologize, nigga, ask Kiss