Luyện nghe bài hát Halftime (Butcher Remix)

Check me out y'all, Nasty Nas in your
to cause mass hysteria

Before a blunt, I take out my
I start to front, matter of fact, I be on a manhunt
You couldn't catch me in the without a ton of reefer
That's like X catching the Jungle Fever
poetic, too much flavor, I'm major
Atlanta and braver, I pull a like a pager
I'm am ace when I face the bass
40 side is the place is giving me grace
Now wait, dose and you might be dead
And I'm a Nike head, I chains that excite the feds
And ain't' a damn thing change
I'm a perform a strange show the mic was born the game?
Nas, why did you do it
You know you got the mad fat fluid when you rhyme, it's

It's

It's like that, you it's like that
I got at him, now you never get the mic
When I attack, ain't an army that could strike back
So I react never on a hype track
I set it off wit my own
Cause I'm as ill as a who kills for phone time
I'm max like cassettes, I like sex
In your stereo sets, Nas will wreck
I used to hustle, now all I do is relax and
When I was young, I was a fan of the 5
I jewels, wear jewels to never run it
Wit kicks than a baby in a mother's stomach
Nasty Nas has to rise, kid,
This is exercise til the dies
Back in '83, I was an MC
But I was too scared to grab the mic's in the and
Kick my little raps 'cause I thought niggas understand
And now in every jam I'm the man
I rap in front of more niggas than in the ships
I used to C.H.I.P.S, now I load glock clips
I got to it, I miss Mr Magic
Versatile, my style like a fagot
But not a bisexual, I'm an
Of rap, I'm a and that's no question, yo
These are the lyrics of the man, you near it, understand
'cause in the streets, I'm well known the number man
In my wit the bass and format
Explore rap and tell me Nas all that
And time I rhyme, I be fouled whenever I freestyle
I see trial say I'm wow
I hate a rhyme rhyme
tuned, Nas, soon the real rap comes at halftime

It's

I got it on, even flip 'em on this song
Every afternoon, I kick the tune
And in the darkness, I'm heartless like the narcs hit
to Marcus Garvey or heartless Sparkton
'cause I blast the herb, that's my word
I be slaying fast, doing this, that in the third
But chill, past the and let's lay
I bag up at John Jay and hit a matinee
Putting on 5-0
Cause it's my time to go, I wait for God wit the fo-fo
And can't come near
And yo, go to hell to the cop who shot Garcia
I won't plant seeds, don't an extra mouth I can't feed
That's extra Phillie change, more for that weed
This goes out to Manhattan, the of Staten
Brooklyn, is living fat and
The Down, enough props, enough clout
I'll will, in peace, yo, I'm out

still halftime