- Letra Ether de Nas
Ranking:
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[gunshots]
[nas talking]
(fuck jay-z)
Whats up niggas, ay yo, I know you aint talkin bout me dog
You, what?
(fuck jay-z)
You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga
(fuck jay-z)
[chorus]
(I) fuck with your soul like ether
(will) teach you the king you know you
(not) gods son across the belly
(lose) I prove you lost already
Brace yourself for the main event
Yall impatiently waitin
Its like an aids test, whats the results?
Not positive, whos the best? pac, nas and big
Aint no best, east, west, north, south, flossed out, greedy
I embrace yall with napalm
Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone
How could nas be garbage?
Semi-autos at your cartilege
Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne
I got this, locked since 9-1
I am the truest, name a rapper that I aint influenced
Gave yall chapters but now I keep my eyes on the judas
With hawaiin sophie fame, kept my name in his music
Check it
[chorus]
[talking]
Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt)
Ay, yall faggots, yall kneel and kiss the fuckin ring
[chorus]
Ive been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that Id be gone, stiff and rotten
Yall just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh)
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Yall some well wishers, friendly actin, envy hidin snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take?
When these streets keep callin, heard it when I was sleep
That this gay-z and cockafella records wanted beef
Started cockin up my weapon, slowly loadin up this ammo
To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle
This for dolo and its manuscript, just sound stupid
When krs already made an album called blueprint
First, biggies ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than big
Dick suckin lips, whynt you let the late, great veteran live
[talking]
(i...will...not...lose)
Gods son across the belly, I prove you lost already
The king is back, where my crown at?
(ill...will) ill will rest in peace, lets do it niggas
[chorus]
Yall niggas deal with emotions like bitches
Whats sad is I love you cause youre my brother
-
You traded your soul for riches
My child, Ive watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin his only son that made it
You seem to be only concerned with dissin women
Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly?
Well life is hard, hug me, dont reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly
In 88 you was gettin chased through your buildin
Callin my crib and I aint even give you my numbers
All I did was gave you a style for you to run with
Smilin in my face, glad to break bread with the god
Wearin jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars jigga, no pies, no case
Just hawaiian shirts, hangin with little chase
You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a stan
I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class
You tae-bo hoe, tryna work it out, you tryna get brolic?
Ask me if Im tryna kick knowledge
Nah, Im tryna kick the shit you need to learn though
That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow
Is he dame diddy, dame daddy or dame dummy?
Oh, I get it, you biggie and hes puffy
Rockafeller died of aids, that was the end of his chapter
And thats the guy yall chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I rock hoes, yall rock fellas
And now yall try to take my spot, fellas?
Phillys hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas
Foxy got you hot cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you gettin girls now cause of your looks?
Ne-gro please
You no mustache havin, with whiskers like a rat
Compared to beans you wack
And your man stabbed un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from jaz to hangin with caine, to herb, to big
And, eminem murdered you on your own shit
You a dick-ridin faggot, you love the attention
Queens niggas run you niggas, ask russell simmons
Ha, r-o-c get gunned up and clapped quick
J.j. evans get gunned up and clapped quick
Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick
Shaun carter to jay-z, damn you on jaz dick
So little shortys gettin gunned up and clapped quick
How much of biggies rhymes is gon come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics
You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask kiss
Puntuación:
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