[intro:]as soon as hip hop came out it was a music that i could grasp and identify with the millennium. chorus:all round and round!from the first to the last, it is in the… passionate clear shit! all my nigger want my.. the hip pop is dying out!..my rap poem. [eminem:]there"s a certain mystique when i speak that you noticecause 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 rappedi bully these rappers so bad lyricallyit 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 shadymy noodle is cock-a-doodle, my clock"s coo-coo i got screws loose, yea the whole kitten caboodle, i"m just brutalit"s no rumor, i"m numero uno, assume itthere"s no more humor in it, you knowi"m rolling with a swollen bowling ball in my bag you need a fag and tear a near hole in my ass! chorus: [jay-z]young hov got the game in a frenzy twenty million sold all independently,so when you mention me make sure you got together your "semblieslike, "he"s the games j.f.kennedy" i started out, i ain"t have no chimneymy ma was santa claus, well, at least she pretended to be"til one night, well, that"s if memory serves me correcti caught her under the christmas tree. young hov ain"t have no popsthank god, man, i had the blockya"ll hear me though you young fucks got the game all wrongthis is my life, man, this ain"t no song! you ain"t livin" your rhymes out, you live at your mom"s housein that tight-ass room, pullin" the cars outand the mirror pointin" at your reflection, killing yourself you american pie, stop feeling yourself! chorus: [nas :]i woke up early on my born day, i"m twenty years of blessingthe 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 someload up the mic and bust one, cuss while i puffs from my skull cause it"s pain in my brain vein money maintaindon"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 cashand got my first piece of ass smokin" blunts with hash now it"s all about cash in abundance, niggaz i used to run withis rich or doin years in the hundredsi switched my motto -- instead of sayin fuck tomorrow that buck that bought a bottle could"ve struck the lotto. once i stood on the block, loose cracks produce stacksi cooked up and cut small pieces to get my loot backtime is illmatic keep static like wool fabric pack a four-matic that crack your whole cabbage! chorus: