Rap Poets - Eminem (埃米纳姆)/Jay-Z/Nas

As soon as hip hop came out

It was a music that

I could grasp and identify with the millennium

All round and round

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

There's a certain mystique

When I speak that you notice

Cause it's sort of unique

Cause you know it's me

My poetry is deep and

I'm still mad at the way

I flow his beat

I can't stand still

It's like trying smoke crap and go to sleep

I'm strapped it's known any minute I could snap

I'm the equivalent of what would happen

If Bush rapped

I bully these rappers so bad lyrically

It ain't even funny I ain't even hungry

It ain't even money

You can't pay me enough for you to play me

It's cockamanie you just ain't zany

Enough to rock with Shady

My noodle is cock-a-doodle my clock's coo-coo

I got screws loose yea the whole kitten caboodle

I'm just brutal

It's no rumor

I'm numero uno assume it

There's no more humor in it you know

I'm rolling with a swollen bowling ball in my bag

You need a fag and tear a near hole in my a**

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

Young Hov got the game in a frenzy

Twenty million sold all independently

So when you mention me

Make sure you got together your 'semblies

Like"He's the games J F Kennedy"

I started out I ain't have no chimney

My ma was Santa Claus well

At least she pretended to be

'Til one night well

That's if memory serves me correct

I caught her under the Christmas tree

Young Hov ain't have no pops

Thank God man I had the block

Ya'll hear me though

You young f**ks got the game all wrong

This is my life man this ain't no song

You ain't livin' your rhymes out

You live at your mom's house

In that tight-a** room pullin' the cars out

And the mirror pointin' at your reflection

Killing yourself

You American Pie

Stop feeling yourself

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

I woke up early on my born day

I'm twenty years of blessing

The essence of adolescent leaves

My body now I'm fresh in

My physical frame is celebrated cause I made it

One quarter through life some

God-ly like thing created

Got rhymes 365 days annual plus some

Load up the mic and bust one

Cuss while I puffs from

My skull cause it's pain in my brain

Vein money maintain

Don't go against the grain simple and plain

When I was young at this I used to do my thing hard

Robbin' foreigners take they wallets

They jewels and rip they green cards

Dipped to the projects flashin'

My quick cash

And got my first piece of a** smokin'

Blunts with hash

Now it's all about cash in abundance

Niggaz I used to run with

Is rich or doin years in the hundreds

I switched my motto

Instead of sayin f**k tomorrow

That buck that bought a bottle

Could've struck the lotto

Once I stood on the block

Loose cracks produce stacks

I cooked up and cut small

Pieces to get my loot back

Time is Illmatic keep static like wool fabric

Pack a four-matic

That crack your whole cabbage

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem

From the first to the last

It is in the passionate

Clear sh*t All I need is one Mic

The hip pop is dying out

My rap poem