Luyện nghe bài hát Whatever

Ayo, what's up? a lotta motherfuckers out here
With a style similar to mine
You know what I Be tryin' to like

They infiltrated the camp and now
They wanna the style and claim it for their owns, ya know
But I'mma blow'em up 'cause just like
Whatever you know what I'm

It's too strategical and
I rotate so that I appear invisible
I keep the chemical but subliminal
The force and spiritual

You got static? You are grounded 'cause I've electrical
Mostly mental but don't sleep on the
Ignorance chatterin', one even said I was a son to him
Still my L P is fatter than his or yours, took a pause
Now that I'm back on the set my foes drop like hoe's

In a brothel, only with what's logical
science left MC's penetrable
The leader's is apocalyptic
Hostile Arabics in Israel with automatics
And if you want it, the monks can it hectic
Set it off, fire burn up Jack and Santa Claus

Whatever you to do, make it clever
Whatever, whatever,

And to all crews, whatever

to blow up, but never disintegratin'
The MC equation, ferromagnetic
Ask my pops, it's genetic that's why I'm a weed
And not the alcoholic, call it you want to call it
just know that it's some form of arithmetic

Hieroglyphic, you can picture this shit
The state of hip-hop today is like hookers in
Got MC in' locked down like a
Blowin' up opposition as I maneuver it

And to sure it's over stood, I stick around
Popular like crime in ghetto
Rock my crown like Shaka did, hold it
your mind up like Joe Jackson kids, check it out

So you want to do, make it clever
Whatever, whatever,

I do my thing, I represent
And to all crews, whatever
I gotta do my thing, I
And to all crews, whatever
I gotta do my thing, I
And to all crews, whatever

Fire, flames, heat up the
Spontaneous combustion, like the Pope's
style of emcee in' is Paganism
Your rhymes make no sense, just like a Roman

But niggas soup you up like Lipton
The Gwong Jan Lin of underground in' strikes again
The snake bites again, but I'm to the poisonous venom
Ask the devil, he I'm dangerous

Freak on the but not sexual, call me unalike
'Cause my rhymes are never
Make you sad, like when Cher left Sonny
Fire burn, Giuliani, and Cuomo

Whatever you want to do, it clever
Whatever, whatever,

I gotta do my thing, I
And to all crews, whatever