Nas - The Message paroles de chanson

paroles de chanson The Message - Nas



Fake thug, no love, you get the slug, CB4 Gusto
Your luck low, I didn't know 'til I was drunk though
You freak niggas played out, get fucked and ate out
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out
96 ways I made out, Montana way
The Good-F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray
Dipped attache, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A glass of 'Ze make a man Cassius Clay
Red dot plots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns
Regulate with my dunn's, 17 rocks gleam from one ring
They let me let y'all niggas know one thing
There's one life, one love, so there can only be one King
The highlights of living, Vegas style roll dice in linen
Antera spinning on milleniums, twenty G bets I'm winning them
Threats I'm sending them, Lex with TV sets the minimum
Ill sex adrenaline
Party with villains, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny
Wet any clique, with the semi TEC who want it?
Diamonds I flaunt it, chicken-heads flock I lace 'em
Fried broiled with basil, taste 'em, crack the legs
Way out of formation, it's horizontal how I have 'em
Fucking me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon?
Grab your gun it's on though
Shit is grimy, real niggas buck in broad daylight
With the broke MAC it won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit, as long as the drama's lit
Yo, overnight thugs, bug 'cause they ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit
I never sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I never sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I never sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I never sleep, because sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin'
I peeped you frontin', I was in the Jeep
Sunk in the seat, tinted with heat, beats bumpin'
Across the street you was wildin'
Talkin' 'bout how you ran the Island in '89
Layin' up, playin' the yard with crazy shine
I cocked a baby 9 that nigga grave be mine, clanked him
What was he thinking on my corner when it's pay me time?
Dug 'em, you owe me cousin, something told me plug him
So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb
Spun around and shot one, heard shots and dropped son
Caught a hot one, somebody take this biscuit 'fore the cops come
Then they came asking me my name, what the fuck
I got stitched up and went through
Left the hospital that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had the drop so how the fuck I get clapped?
Black was in the Jeep watching all these scenes speed by
It was a brown Datsun, and yo nobody in my hood got one
That clown nigga's through, blazin' at his crew daily
The 'Bridge touched me up severely, hear me?
So when I rhyme it's sincerely yours
Be lightin' L's sippin' Coors, on all floors of project halls
Contemplatin' war niggas I was cool with before
We used to score together, Uptown copping the raw
But uh, a thug changes, and love changes
And best friends become strangers, word up
Y'all know my steelo
There ain't no army that can strike back
Y'all know my steelo
There ain't no army that can strike back
Y'all know my steelo
There ain't no army that can strike back
Y'all know my steelo
There ain't no army that can strike back
Thug niggas
Yo, to them thug niggas gettin' it on in the world, you know?
To them niggas that's locked down
Doin' they thing, survivin', ya know'm sayin'?
To my thorough niggas, New York and worldwide
Yo, to the Queensbridge Militia, yo
'96 shit
The Firm clique
Illmatic, nigga
It was written though
It's been a long time comin'
Y'all fake niggas, tryna copy
Better come with the real though
Fake-ass niggas, yo
(They throw us slugs, we throwin' them back, what)
Bring the shit, man, live, man
(Fuck that son, word up) '96 shit



Writer(s): NASIR JONES, SAMUEL J. BARNES, JEAN CLAUDE OLIVIER, GORDON MATTHEW SUMNER, DOMINIC JAMES MILLER


Nas - It Was Written
Album It Was Written
date de sortie
02-07-1996




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