paroles de chanson Dedicated - Nas
Back
by
popular
demand,
it's
Magic
Ded-,
ded-,
dedicated
(yeah)
When
Carlito
was
dying
He
see
the
shadow
of
his
girl
dancing
with
the
baby
Like,
"Fuck
it,
it's
my
time"
But
if
God
save
me
Maybe
I'll
erase
any
vice
that
could
potentially
bring
harm
to
me
Before
I
make
a
move,
I
think
about
it
karmically
Everything
come
back
like
a
boomerang
I'm
black
as
Paul
Mooney
slang
And
all
I
pray
for
is
health
and
a
sustainable
business
And
a
faithful
missus
I
see
a
lot
of
people
try
to
be
who
they
ain't
We
don't
want
money
that
fit
in
the
bag,
we
want
the
bank
Just
to
spread
it
around
like
icing
on
the
cake
White
tiger
out
the
cage,
Mike
Tyson
in
'88
Dedicated
like
jack
boys
on
Melrose
Smash
and
grab,
yo
this
world
became
a
hellhole
"Stay
cool"
is
what
I
tell
those,
(word)
youngins
So
they
don't
end
up
in
jail
clothes,
c'mon
I
dedicated
my
life,
my
life
Dedicated
my
life,
my
life
(dedicated)
I
dedicated
my,
my,
uh,
uh
(you
know
what
that
is?
It's
the
inspiration)
Dedicated
my
(uh)
Whole
damn
life
If
I
wanted
to
now
I
could
live
an
old
man
life
Confronted
with
how
the
hood
can
use
more
funding
More
budgets
for
more
teachers
Financial
literacy,
more
speeches
Chefs
come
cook
for
me
Look
what
it
took
for
me
The
streets
had
its
hooks
in
me
Yeah
People
ask
me
what
books
to
read
Destruction
of
Black
civilization,
that's
history
Journal
of
Chris
Columbus,
that
is
what
interests
me
Juneteenth
holiday
finally
came
and
it
pisses
me
Off,
for
the
fact
that
we
came
in
chains
You'll
be
physically
in
pain
Dedicated
like
Ricky
Walters,
Dougie
and
Dana
Dane
I
dedicated
my
life,
my
life
I
dedicated
my
life,
my
life
I
dedicated
my,
uh
Dedicated
my
(dedicated)
I
dedicated
my
life,
my
life
I
dedicated
my
life,
my
life
I
dedicated
my
Test,
test,
yeah,
you
know?
To
get
to
this
point
I
might
have
to
write
a
script,
a
manuscript
Yo
Yo,
ghetto
manners
is
you
thuggin'
me
or
asking?
Finessin'
me
or
pressin'
me,
when
none
of
that
is
happenin'
Accessory
to
murder
not
necessarily
Manson
I'm
just
a
G
in
constructs,
a
Pelle
Pel,
or
a
Vanson
Ratty
clothes
we
haven't
spoke
in
years,
pat
his
coat
Check
his
waistline,
he
spyin'
on
who
has
the
most
Best
to
leave
me
alone,
I
get
in
my
zone
Laughin'
with
African
presidents
while
over
the
phone
Shit
be
feeling
like
the
last
days,
cash
made
Mirrors
on
the
ceiling
with
a
bad
babe
Same
age
with
niggas
be
having
mad
grays
Million
Man
March
for
real
niggas,
never
last
place
Blazin'
gats
like
young
Haitian
Jack
Me
and
money
go
together
like
the
80s
and
crack
Shorty
aura
like
Kimora
rockin'
Baby
Phat
I'm
droppin'
bars
nigga
like
I'm
on
stage
with
smack
To
my
niggas
who
have
staples
from
the
navel
up
Healed
up,
had
to
chill
awhile,
lay
in
the
cut
Shorty
tried
to
wop
me
down
in
the
Mercedes
truck
Pulled
up,
cobblestone
ground
in
my
palatial
hut
Paradis
for
niggas
still
doing
deals
in
the
street
Original
Backwoods
I
fill
'em
with
green
Am
I
a
musician?
Or
am
I
a
magician?
No
tricks,
just
real
shit,
straight
out
the
kitchen
Pure
magic
No
tricks,
no
tricks
No
tricks
No
tricks,
pure
magic
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