Luyện nghe bài hát Jackin' for Beats '99

* several different beats are used in this
Like ice "jacking for beats"

(jigga my nigga-jay-z)

What's my muthafuckin'

And who I'm wit
All my
Uh uh uh labels better get it
Rappers better gimme beat fool
Clik you been robbed now
You didn't know sticky fingaz on ya now
Somebody said you number 1 in the
That's why I'm coming for you first your beat
I took ya beat and rearranged it on dumb shit
Got on the radio broad day public
The loved it it's not a game
Went solo on that ass but it's the same

(holla rule)
robba robba
Jackin' rappers and make 'em hotta hotta
all ya spins plus ya dollas dollas
Killas if you feel me folla folla (what, come on)
Take it to the streets ya gats and bust the heat
Even if it's off your I gots to eat
I'm on some for no apparent reason
I it wit y'all I'm ready to die breathin'

(hate me now-nas)
the rappers I rob
The beats I take
The I snake
For 30 grand help you perform at the
ya life and everything I touch I take
Hate me now 'cause gon be too late
I you
I spit is controversial
I'm the illest they ever signed to universal
F the
I'm God son
As soon as they blink bet ya bottom dolla rob 'em

(how to cent)
My fingaz turn fists across ya jaw
Beat ya ass in real life at the source
The real from brooklyn God bless he got outed
You just a fake who front and rout about it
I got a new
For a few mil
to kill
You like dru hill
You spare change you ain't half a man 'cause
Matter of fact you ain't half the man ya moms was

(ha-juvenile)
Oh you you was safe, ha
you could escape, ha
'cause we mates, ha
Oh you I wouldn't get yo cake, ha
You thought that from the dirty south wasn't gon get raped, ha
And birds wanna have baby, ha
Dogs run stayin' sticky crazy, ha
He ain't got no of sense, ha
No what I do
Might jack my own crew

(throw ya gunz-onyx)
The original 'em out bring 'em out dead
Comin' at me wrong kid I put that thing to ya
Sticky fingaz going for self the cops
Don't talk to me about the onyx shit you'll get shot

(play cease)
5 o'clock in the morning killas at ya
Colt 4-4 I'm puttin' chalk on your
you up the block from ya house dead in the store
Work the beat pigeons and I'm bucking 'em all
ya luck and you'll fall
Neva seen this raw
I'm what the world been for
Wait no
This wack shit can't no more
been banned the streets should've made it a law

(what ya want-eve)
I'm for war
What ya niggas (what, what, what, bring it)
touch
All niggas sweet even rob swizz beats
producers gettin' 50 g's
Jack beat kid I did my track for free
Jerk you for ya pub I payin' a fee
I loop it up on the mpc

(the party is goin' on here-busta rhymes)
Long as you live seen nothing this while
ya beat and flipped it right in my style
Just payin' niggas be bitin' my style
And if it's dead in the crowd I put life in the crowd
God's gift to the
Running 'em
Fucking 'em
be tumblin' down
The end of the world is comin'
ya ass in the ground
Nothing to
Changing the
for keeps
I'ma shark in the it ain't safe in the streets
fingaz and I'm jackin' for beats