Luyện nghe bài hát Poet Laureate II

Yo, why is the Ripper so //
That would be an unpardonable breech of for me to reveal //
He said, One of these days all will be on me //
When they look up in the sky and see the C //
Rhymes inscribed on a nickel disk encased in a glass with an ion for longevity //
For more than ten centuries, and memories //
The first time-machine inventor mention me //
Canibus was a indeed //
He believed light travel in multiples of c //
The organic supercomputer that solved the mysteries of Klein-Kaluza with two blue rulers //
Liked Cool J but thought Steven Jay was cooler //
And he never liked to rumors //
Smoked Island cigars //
American luxury cars and beautiful Asian broads //
He had a mind //
He used to about rhymes while he was pruning his bonsais //
He claimed that he had written the rhyme of all time //
But he never take it out of his archives //
He two songs per day //
And was constantly experimenting with his //
In his youth he did a report on the Sloan Digital Sky //
He got a F but he an A //
I followed his career from the day //
It seemed the lack of support to his inert ways //
Ive him put in twenty-four hour workdays //
With pay, undeterred by the worst shame //
humiliation was the worst pain //
He was spinning out of like a class five hurricane //
He said he wouldnt want emcee to suffer the same //
Especially theres nothing to gain //
He was the alive but nobody would face it //
He spit til his tongue was too torched to it //
Properly funded corporations Carbon-dated his latest //
To the information, they found it utterly amazing //
claimed the body of his work was the same thing as a priceless painting //
Never to him the art galleries hated him //
Cause Thomas Kinkade called and said he take ten //
Complete wrapped in puzzles encrypted in language //
sound but without shape or signature //
Kept files in his garage on MS-DOS in a fireproof pod, we it was odd //
Outside there was a shed with an Oppenheimer //
He apparently kept more wax than Madame //
We were in total awe it blew our minds //
So many rhymes that were designed //
He WAS laureate of his time //
And if you mind Id like to share some of his rhymes //
in my room looking through the thirty-two X telescope zoom //
Adjusting the focus of the //
One should not assume the of David Hume is nothing more than a subjective conclusion //
What is the field rate application? //
The runaway glaciation the ocean basin //
Affects the population fluctuation on a basis but thats just the basics //
The juxtaposition of position //
The precision of no other has written //
Way and beyond what was intended //
The unparalleled malleable enunciation of a //
You didnt go to college, //
I can tell by your ungodly terminology //
Your remarkable //
The rhymes at speeds when the brain orders the body not to breathe //
Your competency is not up to speed, not in my league //
You couldnt be hotter than me //
Or at minus twenty-five degrees //
Youll squeeze but the condensation makes rifle barrels //
Allow me to speak figuratively, nigga //
My intellectual propertys about the size of //
Your counselor you not to speak //
My advised me to keep rhyming until they stopped the beat //
In the words of Joseph Heller, I learned how to write better, even though it of irked me //
He said he understand the process of the imagination but he felt he was at its mercy //
exploits my point perfectly //
And certainly reinforces the reason why nobodys probably heard of me //
Couldnt what I mean by ill //
you try to translate what I print to film //
This is the of will, the circle of time, the cycle of eternity, the emergence of one line //
Academic phonetics render tongue-tied //
The personified dry of cum laude alumni //
A man sees failure as progress //
A divorces his knowledge and misses the logic //
And loses his soul in the obsessed with nonsense with a caricature that has no content //
My is masterful, multilateral, I could battle a fool and be naturally cruel //
Words of are a disastrous tool, from an existentialists view Im a better rapper than you //
the mic and rip your physical fabric in two, my attitude is fucked up but admirable //
Different methods into different forms //
From entirely perceptions and seen from different norms //
Not just spitting a poem, theres more involved //
Theres much more of the puzzle for you to solve //
orders of mechanical laws //
And rays of creational cause the cadence of my bars //
I am self-absorbed //
But the effect, to find the cause you should ask my A&R //
is what it is but only because yesterday was what it was //
Permitting heard of Beelzebub //
A tale of demons and drugs, drunk in the club //
With the DJ doing the needle rub, chances are youd see me, son //
Yeah, I know my names Canibus but I cant help you if you a dub //
I came to holler at big booty bitches and listen to the speakers thump //
Whered you get conceited from? Im so nice on the mic they want to me up //
Its deep as fuck, I aint seen it all but Ive enough, really unbelievable stuff //
Theres a lot of times when I want to speak but Im //
I should leave this rap shit alone and kick my incredible rhymes in the privacy of my own //
My imagination is my own, the liberty to speak freely on the microphone //
With a pen in my hand I bring motion to the and become Can-I-Millennium Man //
Engrave my back with the Stamp //
Been spitting rap since the seventeenth century began //
Trying to escape the wicked empire of Def Jam in the land where lyrics are bland and hang //
Every warrior has an ax to bury, but he has to learn to discern between enemy and //
I said to myself, Germaine, this is insane, its suicide, its controlled flight terrain //
I fought to regain control the but went up in a ball of flames //
And got banned from the Hip-Hop of Fame //
For two bars I kept hearing in my head and over again //
It cost me //
Im now that more than the truth is at stake //
Where people create that pretends to communicate //
Euphemisms are misunderstood as //
But its a byproduct of the ghetto music we //
From an extroverted point of view, I its too late //
Hip-Hop has never been the since eighty-eight //
Since it became a profession theres a misconception //
That a in any direction is progression //
Even the potency of it lessens //
Big industries writing checks to suppress the question //
And nobody a fuck no more //
No one goes to the bookstore ever since the of Moores Law //
But I in the lab like Niels Bohr, his son Aage, Edward Lorenz and Leo Szilard //
I took rap music and turned the knob //
To the right full-throttle and panache //
Why would I argue with my own conscience the truth //
like me telling myself, Dont tell me what to do //
Dialyses and analyses of battle emcees, sometimes I say things I myself believe //
My lyrical is so elliptical, I can understand how it makes you miserable //
You wonder why I let you play your beats for me? //
And why I my studio enshrouded in secrecy? //
You wonder whats my infatuation with Keys? //
Canibus, why dont you to me? //
Yo, I meant it when I said no one can shine on a song that me //
why I said it so vehemently //
You need to replace the hate respect, Im probably the best yet //
Laureate! //