Takeover vs Ether

“Takeover vs Ether”

It’s been 2 months that Jay-Z’s “Takeover” and Nas’ “Ether” has been constantly played in my car every morning (I use to drive my wife to office for 30-45 minutes everyday) and yes, I’ve been abusive to this two tracks in the past weeks. It’s been over a decade since the ‘beef’ between Jay-Hova and Nasty Nas began and up to this day, it’s a huge of a debate who won or lose on this remarkable battle of lyricism.

To be honest, I’m not that of a ‘deep’ hip-hop enthusiast. But as a Writer and Reader, when it comes to music I’m always after the lyrical content of the song. For my obsession is how to play with words. I admire lyricists with intelligence and creativity base on how they write, how they rhyme and how they choose the perfect words to stitch a perfect line.

I can verily say, that both tracks are two of the best hip-hop tracks in history. But if you’re going to ask me ‘who won’ this battle? Man, the answer depends on who you ask. It’s like Marvin Hagler vs Sugar Ray Leonard. And besides, I think they’re in good terms now and both of ’em ended up as two of the most influential people in Hip-Hop.

What are your thoughts? Takeover and Ether lyrics below. \m/

-JB

 

Track: TAKEOVER by Jay-Z
[Intro]
R.O.C., we running this rap shit
Memphis Bleek, we running this rap shit
B. Mac, we running this rap shit
Freeway, we run this rap shit
O & Sparks, we running this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we running this rap shit

[Verse 1]
The takeover, the break’s over, nigga
God MC – me – Jay-hova
Hey lil soldier, you ain’t ready for war
R.O.C. too strong for y’all
It’s like bringing a knife to a gunfight, pen to a test
Your chest in the line of fire with your thin-ass vest
You bringing them boys to men, how them boys gonna win?
This is grown man B.I., get you rolled into triage, bi-atch
Your reach ain’t long enough, dunny
Your peeps ain’t strong enough, fucker
Roc-A-Fella is the army, better yet the navy
Niggas’ll kidnap your babies, spit at your lady
We bring knife to fistfight, kill your drama
We kill you motherfucking ants with a sledgehammer
Don’t let me do it to you, dunny, cause I overdo it
So you won’t confuse it with “just rap music”

[Hook]
R.O.C., we running this rap shit
M Easy, we running this rap shit
The Broadstreet Bully we running this rap shit
Get zipped up in plastic when it happens that’s it
Freeway, we running this rap shit
O & Sparks, we running this rap shit
Chris & Neef, we running this rap shit
(“Watch out!! We run New York”)

[Verse 2]
I don’t care if you Mobb Deep, I hold triggers to crews
You little fuck, I got money stacks bigger than you
When I was pushing weight, back in ’88
You was a ballerina, I got the pictures, I seen ya
Then you dropped “Shook Ones,” switched your demeanour
Well, we don’t believe you, you need more people
Roc-A-Fella, students of the game, we passed the class cause
Nobody can read you dudes like we do
Don’t let em gas you, like “Jigga is ass and won’t clap you”
Trust me on this one, I’ll detach you
Mind from spirit, body from soul
They’ll have to hold a mass, put your body in a hole
No, you’re not on my level get your brakes tweaked
I sold what your whole album sold in my first week
You guys don’t want it with Hov
Ask Nas, he don’t want it with Hov, no!

[Hook]

[Verse 3]
I know you missing Nas the (fame)
But along with celebrity comes about 70 shots to your frame, nigga
You a (lame)
You’s the fag model for Karl Kani, Esco ads
Went from Nasty Nas to Esco’s trash
Had a spark when you started but now you’re just garbage
Fell from “top 10” to “not mentioned at all”
To your bodyguard’s “Oochie Wally”‘s verse better than yours
Matter of fact you had the worst flow on the whole fucking song
But I know: the sun don’t shine, then son don’t shine
That’s why your (lame) career’s come to an end
It’s only so long fake thugs can pretend
Nigga, you ain’t live it
You witnessed it from your folks’ pad
You scribbled it in your notepad and created your life
I showed you your first TEC (me!), on tour with Large Professor
Then I heard your album about your TEC on the dresser
So yeah, I sampled your voice, you was using it wrong
You made it a hot line, I made it a hot song
And you ain’t get a coin, nigga, you was getting fucked then
I know who I paid, God – Serchlite publishing
Use your (brain)
You said you’ve been in this 10, I’ve been in it 5 – smarten up, Nas
4 albums in 10 years, nigga? I could divide
That’s one every…let’s say 2
2 of them shits was due
1 was “nah,” the other was Illmatic
That’s a one-hot-album-every-10-year average
And that’s so (lame)
Nigga, switch up your flow
Your shit is garbage
What you trying to kick, knowledge?
You niggas gonna learn to respect the king
Don’t be the next contestant on that Summer Jam screen
Because you-know-who did you-know-what with you-know-who
But let’s keep that between me and you (for now)

[Hook]

[Verse 4]
A wise man told me don’t argue with fools
Cause people from a distance can’t tell who is who
So stop with that childish shit, nigga I’m grown
Please leave it alone – don’t throw rocks at the throne
Do not bark up that tree, that tree will fall on you
I don’t know why your advisers ain’t forewarn you
Please, not Jay, he’s not for play
I don’t slack a minute, all that thug rapping and gimmicks
I will end it, all that yapping be finished
You are not deep, you made your bed now sleep
Don’t make me expose you to them folks that don’t know you
Nigga I know you well, all the stolen jew-els
Twinkletoes, you’re breaking my heart
You can’t fuck with me – go play somewhere, I’m busy
And all you other cats throwing shots at Jigga
You only get half a bar – fuck y’all niggas

 

Track: ETHER by Nas

[Intro]
Fuck Jay Z!
(What’s up niggas, ayo, I know you ain’t talking ’bout me, dog,you? what?)
Fuck Jay Z!
(You been on my dick nigga, you love my style, nigga)
Fuck Jay Z!

[Hook]
(I) Fuck with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you – the king – you know you
(Not) God’s Son across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already

[Verse 1]
Brace yourself for the main event
Y’all impatiently waiting
It’s like an AIDS test
What’s the results, not positive
Who’s the best, Pac, Nas and B.I.G
Ain’t no best – East, West, North, South, flossed out, greedy
I embrace y’all with napalm
Blows up, no guts left, chest/face gone
How could Nas be garbage?
Semi-autos at your cartilage
Burner at the side of your dome
Come out of my throne
I got this locked since 9-1
I am the truest
Name a rapper that I ain’t influenced
Gave y’all chapters but now I keep my eyes on the Judas
With Hawaiian Sophie fame, kept my name in his music

[Hook]
(I) Fuck with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you – the king – you know you
(Not) God’s Son across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already

[Interlude 1]
Ayo, pass me the weed, put my ashes out on these niggas, man!
Ayo, you faggots, y’all kneel and kiss the mothafuckin’ ring!

[Hook]
(I) Fuck with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you – the king – you know you
(Not) God’s Son across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already

[Verse 2]
I’ve been fucked over, left for dead, dissed and forgotten
Luck ran out, they hoped that I’d be gone, stiff and rotten
Y’all just piss on me, shit on me, spit on my grave
Talk about me, laugh behind my back but in my face
Y’all some well wishers, friendly acting, envy hiding snakes
With your hands out for my money, man, how much can I take
When these streets keep calling, heard it when I was sleep
That this Gay-Z and Cock-a-Fella Records wanted beef
Started cocking up my weapon, slowly loading up this ammo
To explode it on a camel and his soldiers
I can handle this for dolo and his manuscript just sound stupid
When KRS already made an album called Blueprint
First Biggie’s your man, then you got the nerve to say
That you better than B.I.G, dick-sucking lips
Why don’t you let the late, great veteran live?

[Interlude 2]
I… will… not… lose
God’s son across the belly, I prove you lost already
The king is back, where my crown at
Ill Will rest in peace, let’s do it niggas

[Hook]
(I) Fuck with your soul like ether
(Will) Teach you – the king – you know you
(Not) God’s Son across the belly
(Lose) I prove you lost already

[Verse 3]
Y’all niggas deal with emotions like bitches
What’s sad is I love you cause you’re my brother
You traded your soul for riches
My child, I’ve watched you grow up to be famous
And now I smile like a proud dad watchin’ his only son that made it
You seem to be only concerned with dissing women
Were you abused as a child? Scared to smile? They called you ugly?
Well life is harsh; hug me, don’t reject me
Or make records to disrespect me, blatant or indirectly
In ’88 you was getting chased through your building
Callin’ my crib and I ain’t even give you my numbers
All I did was give you a style for you to run with
Smiling in my face, glad to break bread with the God
Wearing Jaz chains, no Tecs, no cash, no cars
No jail bars Jigga, no pies, no case
Just Hawaiian shirts, hanging with little Chase
You a fan, a phony, a fake, a pussy, a Stan
I still whip your ass; You thirty-six in a karate class?
You Tae-Bo ho, tryna work it out, you tryna get brolic?
Ask me if I’m tryna kick knowledge?
Nah, I’m tryna kick the shit you need to learn though
That ether, that shit that make your soul burn slow
Is he Dame Diddy, Dame Daddy or Dame Dummy?
Oh, I get it, you Biggie and he’s Puffy
Rocafella died of AIDS, that was the end of his chapter
And that’s the guy y’all chose to name your company after?
Put it together, I rock hoes, y’all rock fellas
And now y’all try to take my spot, fellas
Feel these hot rocks fellas, put you in a dry spot, fellas
In a pine box with nine shots from my Glock, fellas
Foxy got you hot, cause you kept your face in her puss
What you think, you getting girls now cause of your looks
Ne-gro please, you no mustache having
With whiskers like a rat, compared to Beans you whack
And your man stabbed Un and made you take the blame
You ass, went from Jaz to hanging with Kane, to Irv, to B.I.G
And Eminem murdered you on your own shit
You a dick-riding faggot, you love the attention
Queens niggas run you niggas, ask Russell Simmons, ha

[Outro]
R-O-C get gunned up and clapped quick
J.J. Evans get gunned up and clapped quick
Your whole damn record label gunned up and clapped quick
Shawn Carter to Jay-Z – damn, you on Jaz dick!
So little shorty’s getting gunned up and clapped quick
How much of Biggie’s rhymes is gonna come out your fat lips?
Wanted to be on every last one of my classics
You pop shit, apologize, nigga, just ask KissBottom of Form