Luyện nghe bài hát Documentary

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

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

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

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

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

Ready to die without a reasonable
chronic and hit it doggy style before I go out
Until they my death certificate, all eyes on me
I'm still at it, illmatic and the documentary, documentary

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, so, yeah, I got a lot of for Jay
You what I'm sayin'
I take shots at legends
just somethin' I don't do

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

The prodigee' of Doc Dre I could finally put the on
Now that the of Rakim and Q gone
They say truth hurts sunk, quick sand
Don't stop me in traffic and ask Hitman

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

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

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

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