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 //
they look up in the sky and see the neon C //
Rhymes inscribed on a disk encased in a glass with an ion beam for longevity //
For more than ten centuries, impressions and //
The first time-machine will mention me //
was a visionary indeed //
He light could travel in multiples of c //
The supercomputer that solved the mysteries of Klein-Kaluza with two blue metric rulers //
Liked J but thought Steven Jay Gould was cooler //
And he never liked to rumors //
Canary Island cigars //
Liked American 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 greatest rhyme of all //
But he would never take it out of his //
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 contributed to his inert ways //
Ive him put in twenty-four hour workdays //
With pay, undeterred by the worst shame //
Public humiliation was the worst //
He was spinning out of control like a class hurricane //
He said he wouldnt want emcee to suffer the same //
Especially when theres nothing to //
He was the alive but nobody would face it //
He spit til his tongue was too torched to it //
funded corporations Carbon-dated his latest creations //
To the information, they found it utterly amazing //
They claimed the body of his work was the same as a priceless painting //
mattered to him the art galleries hated him //
Cause Thomas Kinkade called and said he would ten //
Complete enigmas wrapped in puzzles encrypted in //
sound but without shape or signature //
Kept files in his garage on in a fireproof pod, we thought it was odd //
Outside there was a shed an Oppenheimer lock //
He apparently kept wax than Madame Tussaud //
We were in total awe cause it our minds //
So many rhymes that were designed //
He WAS poet laureate of his //
And if you dont mind Id to share some of his rhymes //
Alone in my room looking through the thirty-two X telescope //
Adjusting the of the moon //
One should not assume the philosophy of Hume is nothing more than a subjective conclusion //
What is the maximum field application? //
The runaway surrounding the ocean basin //
the population fluctuation on a continuous basis but thats just the basics //
The juxtaposition of Can-I-Buss //
The of something no other has written //
Way above and beyond what was //
The unparalleled malleable of a sentence //
You go to college, obviously //
I can tell by ungodly unintelligible terminology //
Your odyssey //
The rhymes at modest when the brain orders the body not to breathe //
Your competency is not up to speed, youre not in my //
You couldnt possibly be hotter me //
Or oppositely at twenty-five degrees //
squeeze but the condensation makes rifle barrels freeze //
Allow me to speak figuratively, please //
My propertys about the size of Greece //
Your advised you not to speak //
My counselor advised me to keep rhyming until stopped the beat //
In the of Joseph Heller, I learned how to write better, even though it sort of irked me //
He said he didnt understand the process of the imagination but he he was at its mercy //
Which exploits my point //
And certainly reinforces the reason why nobodys probably ever of me //
understand what I mean by ill //
Lest you try to translate I print to film //
This is the of will, the circle of time, the cycle of eternity, the emergence of one line //
Academic phonetics critics tongue-tied //
The dry humor of cum laude alumni //
A wise man sees as progress //
A divorces his knowledge and misses the logic //
And loses his soul in the process obsessed with with a caricature that has no content //
My style is masterful, multilateral, I could a fool and be naturally cruel //
Words of scorn are a disastrous tool, from an existentialists view Im a better than you //
Grab the mic and rip your physical fabric in two, my is fucked up but admirable //
methods interpreted into different forms //
From different perceptions and seen from different norms //
Not just spitting a poem, theres much more //
Theres much more of the puzzle for you to solve //
Forty-eight orders of mechanical //
And rays of creational cause enhance the of my bars //
I am self-absorbed //
But the effect, to find the cause you should ask my A&R //
Today is what it is but only because was what it was //
Permitting heard of Beelzebub //
A of demons and drugs, pissy drunk in the club //
With the DJ doing the needle rub, chances are youd see me, son //
Yeah, I my names Canibus but I cant help you if you need a dub //
I came to holler at some big booty and listen to the speakers thump //
Whered you get conceited from? Im so nice on the mic want to beat me up //
Its deep as fuck, I aint seen it all but Ive seen enough, really unbelievable //
Theres a lot of times when I want to but Im stuck //
I should leave this rap shit alone and kick my incredible rhymes in the of my own home //
My imagination is my own, the liberty to speak lyrically on the microphone //
With a pen in my hand I bring motion to the and become Can-I-Millennium Man //
Engrave my back the Emperors Stamp //
Been spitting scientific rap since the century began //
Trying to escape the wicked empire of Def Jam in the land where lyrics are bland and heretics //
Every warrior has an ax to bury, but he has to learn to discern between and adversary //
I said to myself, Germaine, this is insane, its suicide, its flight into terrain //
I fought to control the plane but went up in a ball of flames //
And got banned from the Hip-Hop of Fame //
For two bars I hearing in my head over and over again //
It me everything //
Im convinced now that more than the truth is at //
Where people language that pretends to communicate //
are misunderstood as mistakes //
But its a of the ghetto music we make //
From an extroverted point of view, I its too late //
Hip-Hop has been the same since eighty-eight //
it became a lucrative profession theres a misconception //
That a in any direction is progression //
Even though the potency of it //
Big money industries writing checks to suppress the //
And gives a fuck no more //
No one to the bookstore ever since the confluence of Moores Law //
But I stay in the lab like Niels Bohr, his son Aage, Lorenz and Leo Szilard //
Lyrically I took rap music and the knob //
To the right and added panache //
Why would I argue with my own conscience over the //
like me telling myself, Dont tell me what to do //
Dialyses and analyses of emcees, sometimes I say things I myself cant believe //
My is so skillfully elliptical, I can understand how it makes you miserable //
You wonder why I never let you play your 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 no one can shine on a song that features me //
Thats why I said it so //
You need to the hate with respect, Im probably the best yet //
Laureate! //