Luyện nghe bài hát Ether II

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

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

Brace yourself for the event
Y'all waitin'
It's like an AIDS test, the results?
Not positive, the best? Pac, Nas and Big

Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out,
I embrace y'all napalm
up, no guts, left chest, face gone
How Nas be garbage?
Semi-autos at cartilage

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

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

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

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

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

Y'all some "Well wishers", friendly actin', hidin' snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I
When these keep callin', heard it when I was sleep
That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records beef

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

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

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

Y'all niggas deal emotions like bitches
What's sad is I you 'cause you're my brother
You your soul for riches
My child, I've you grow up to be famous

And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin' his only son made it
You seem to be only concerned with women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you
Well, life is hard, hug me, don't me

Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or
In '88 you was gettin' chased through your
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, to break bread with the God
Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no
Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin' little Chase

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

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

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

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 'cause you your face in her puss
What you think, you gettin' now 'cause of your looks?

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

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

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

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