Luyện nghe bài hát Documentary

What happened in hip hop that got Pac and Big
The thicks plots, now every rapper he let his clique pop
But myself tote a gun and know to run then get shot
been there before, now I'm fuckin' with Doc

Gotta do them Broadus numbers
If not I push anticipatin' my incarceration
Media think I'm fakin' like Mason but it comes to mase
Fuck off, Kelly, I take it in the face

I out who sprayed it, I'm puttin' you under the pavement
No buddhist, priest, catholic, or pastor can save him
I'm far from religious but I got
So I put cannary yellow diamonds in my Jesus

I back from the dead without a part of my chest
in a hospital bed on cardiac arrest
I waited for three years while everybody else
Now I why Nas did a song with his pops

I'm ready to die without a doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it doggy style I go out
Until sign my death certificate, all eyes on me
I'm at it, illmatic and that's the documentary

to die without a reasonable doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it doggy style I go out
Until they sign my death certificate, all on me
I'm still at it, illmatic and that's the documentary,

If I die my niggas, fuck it, I did a song with Blige
My niggas got a hook Faith, no verse from Jay
I guess on West Side Story he thought I in his face

Told Ed and Money Luv I was talkin' to Ja
With that mayback line it was time
Keep fuckin' with me nigga I'll put you me
Take your car and trade it in for three hundred C's

If you cross my T I'll dot eyes
You do life in a I'll do mine with Shyne
home sit in the thrown with my legs crossed
And my air middle finger up, fuck the world

'Cause I'm feelin' like Puff 'Life After Death' hit
Mo' money, mo' and I lost my best friend
I'm the second dopest nigga from Compton you'll ever
The first nigga only put out every seven years

You know what speakin' of Jay that makes me roll down
Now your west side story, you got a line that says
"Don't wear throwbacks or drive, in maybacks"
Is that a shot at Naa, I was talkin' about Ja Rule

Yeah, so, yeah, I got a lot of for Jay
You what I'm sayin'
I never take shots at
just somethin' I don't do

Let me tell you why I do shit
I'm a son of a gun, mom's was a hoover crip
First day I got signed I had to I spit
with Busta Rhymes son, Duke is sick

The prodigee' of Doc Dre I could put the shoes on
Now the rumors of Rakim and Q gone
They say hurts sunk, like quick sand
Don't stop me in and ask about Hitman

I gotta restore the feelin' it crawled under the rock
After the dog pound crushed the
I got a to feed, I'm the middle of middle children
We can talk about a loan after I five million

If I tell you I ain't and I don't know Dre
You gonna do me X-Zibit and cut half of my face?
I take all the credit for puttin' the west on the map
If you ain't feelin' that I'm Gorilla Black

I'm ready to die a reasonable doubt
Smoke chronic and hit it doggy before I go out
Until they sign my death certificate, all on me
I'm still at it, and that's the documentary

Ready to die a reasonable doubt
Smoke and hit it doggy style before I go out
Until sign my death certificate, all eyes on me
I'm still at it, illmatic and the documentary, documentary