Luyện nghe bài hát What You Got

Y'all coward niggaz a nigga like me laugh,
what the fuck? yea, yea.. chargin niggaz
yea, yea.. behold the only greater than yourself

(Verse 1)
I'll slash ya grill, don't me
You'll be the only entertainer with less groupies than Biz
I'm never dull, Chino the thug, style centerfold,
have every latin in the country aimin at ya skull
I'll aim it at the Pope if he claimin he sellin the dope
My Jersey blocks is locked tighter than prisoners hold
And listeners where we vote out ya CD and vinyl, the final
Yell, fuck tricks and smoke, till our vocals with a Colt
They playin in every club, whip, party and bar you in
Give you more blood clots than two arguin
Sweat till ya fake silver platinum is tarnishin
Women shakin they ovaries, what we accomplishin, what..

(Chorus)
We got better lyrics you got "What You Got?"
We got better than you got "What You Got?"
We run with killas than you got "What You Got?"
We got better than you got "What You Got?"
We got cribs than you got "What You Got?"
We got bitches than you got "What You Got?"
We run with more than you got "What You Got?"
We got better than you got "What You Got?"

(Verse 2)
Coming to kill me, I cant that
Fear is a stimulus I been programmed to feel yet
Snatch you outta your Roots like I'm Illadelph
What I do to your hairline back, Rogaine wont help
My Quest for the Wealth, Stone Cold Austin's quest for the belt
I mention myself as a cell, an extension of hell
At a lynching I smile, cut myself down, your guest list
My style a drag like they do black men in Texas
Next to mention this, I'ma show them the real threat
I'ma ride till my daughters like "Daddy are we there yet?"
Ain't no priest in the streets, only drugs before
See more keys than a lot of repossessed vehicles
you I was coming, you ain't believe I'm assumin
If we all super heroes, these niggaz must be Wonder Women
to fist, skin to skin, I make you fall flat
Brat little niggaz, the tat on my shoulder cover they back
Cant back, splatter they whole rap to match my ((?))
Shittin on MC's, my ass on they notebooks
How the broke in videos leave me stressed
I'll turn on 2 if I wanna CBS, bitch

(Chorus w/ variation)

(Verse 3)
Least but not last, I'll blast an
Until he has the cash to put end to his
Now shine up the brass for his
I'm last of the rawest, my passion ain't
mastered the forces, I rap to the chorus,
My cast is enormous, I'm fast and I'm
Twenty inch stronger than forklifts
Smoke in front of reporters till I choke and they nauseous
And through the glass of your Porsche's
Show you how Newark is as as divorces
Lay you out dead in the grass on the
My craft is flawless, have ya wrapped in a blackened sausage
Splashed across it for rhymin like a fag in a cordless
Murder all witnesses, nosey, on porches,
Like torches, super human, Chino's never scorches
Drape your family reunion in black funeral
Have cats that sell ya drugs for you, usual corners
I never lost this mad lust to be rap's
Breakin companies, Jersey got women strapped inside office
I got.. DJ Supporters and women sex offers
I got.. A crib like a fortress, tuition for all my
I got.. Rhymes hot like sauna's, and from Time Warner
I got.. Killas on corner, surrounded by jewish lawyers
what what..

(Chorus w/ variation)