Eather Lyrics
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Eather Lyricsby Nas Buy album CD: Other Songs A - WA [gunshots] [Nas talking] ("Fuck Jay-Z") What's up niggas, ay yo, I know you ain't talkin 'bout me dog You, what? ("Fuck Jay-Z") You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga ("Fuck Jay-Z") [Chorus:] (I) Fuck with your soul like ether (Will) Teach you the king you know you (Not) "God's son" across the belly (Lose) I prove you lost already Brace yourself for the main event Y'all impatiently waitin It's like an AIDS test, what's the results? Not positive, who's the best? Pac, Nas and Big Ain't no best, East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy I embrace y'all with napalm Blows up, no guts, left chest, face gone How could Nas be garbage? Semi-autos at your cartilege Burner at the side of your dome, come outta my throne I got this, locked since '9-1 I am the truest, name a rapper that I ain't influenced Gave y'all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas With Hawaiin Sophie fame, kept my name in his music Check it [Chorus] [talking] Ay yo, pass me the weed, pour my ashes out on these niggas man (no doubt) Ay, y'all faggots, y'all kneel and kiss the fuckin ring [Chorus] I've been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and fogotten Luck ran out, they hoped that I'd be gone, stiff and rotten Y'all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave (uh) Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face Y'all some "well wishers," friendly actin, envy hidin snakes With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take? When these streets keep callin, heard it when I was sleep That this Gay-Z and Cockafella Records wanted beef Started cockin up my weapon, slowly loadin up this ammo To explode it on a camel, and his soldiers, I can handle This for dolo and it's manuscript, just sound stupid When KRS already made an album called Blueprint First, Biggie's ya man, then you got the nerve to say that you better than Big Dick suckin lips, whyn't you let the late, great veteran live [talking] (I...will...not...lose) "God's son" across the belly, I prove you lost already The king is back, where my crown at? (Ill...will) Ill Will rest in peace, let's do it niggas [Chorus] Y'all niggas deal with emotions like bitches What's sad is I love you 'cause you're my brother You traded your soul for riches My child, I've watched you grow up to be famous And now I smile like a proud dad, watchin his only son that made it You seem to be only concerned with dissin women Were you abused as a child, scared to smile, they called you ugly? Well life is hard, hug me, don't reject me Or make records to disrespect me, blatent or indirectly In '88 you was gettin chased through your buildin Callin my crib and I ain't even give you my numbers All I did was gave you a style for you to run with Smilin in my face, glad to break bread with the god Wearin Jaz chains, no tecs, no cash, no cars No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case Just Hawaiian shirts, hangin with little Chase You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan I still whip your ass, you thirty-six in a karate class You Tae-bo hoe, tryna' work it out, you tryna' get brolic? Ask me if I'm tryna' kick knowledge Nah, I'm tryna' kick the shit you need to learn though That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy? Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he's Puffy Rockafeller died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter And that's the guy y'all chose to name your company after? Put it together, I rock hoes, y'all rock fellas And now y'all try to take my spot, fellas? Philly's hot rock fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas In a pine box with nine shots from my glock, fellas Foxy got you hot 'cause you kept your face in her puss What you think, you gettin girls now 'cause of your looks? Ne-gro please You no mustache havin, with whiskers like a rat Compared to Beans you wack And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame You ass, went from Jaz to hangin with Caine, to Herb, to Big And, Eminem murdered you on your own shit You a dick-ridin faggot, you love the attention Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons Ha, R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick Sean Carter to Jay-Z, damn you on Jaz dick So little shorty's gettin gunned up and clapped quick How much of Biggie's rhymes is gon' come out your fat lips? Wanted to be on every last one of my classics You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask Kiss
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