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| Nas Miscellaneous Made You Look *shotgun blast* *old school break beat, thugs chant "Bravehearts!" 7X* [Verse 1: Nas] Uh, uh, uh, now let's get it all in perspective For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step wit' Y'all appointed me to bring rap justice But I ain't five-O, y'all know it's Nas yo Grey goose and a whole lotta hydro Only describe us as soldier survivors Stay laced in the best, well dressed with finesse In a white tee lookin for wifie Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze We can drive thru the city no doubt, but don't say my car's topless Say the titties is out, newness here's the anthem Put your hand up that you shoot with, count your loot wit' Push the pool stick in your new crib, same hand that you hoop with Swing around like you stu-pid, king'a the town, yeah I been that You know I click-clack where you and yor men's at Do the Smurf, do the Wop, Baseball Bat Rooftop like we bringing '88 back [Chorus: Nas] They shootin'! -- Aw made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' Big/"big" money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at? They shootin'! -- Aw made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Gettin' Big/"big" money, playboy your time's up Where them gangstas at? Where them dimes at? [Verse 2: Nas] This ain't rappin, this is Street-Hop Now get up off your ass like your seat's hot My live niggaz lit up the reefer Trunk'a the car we got the streetsweeper Don't start none, won't be none No reason for your mans to panic You don't wanna see no ambulances Knock a pimp's drink down in his pimp cup That's the way you get Timberland'd up Let the music diffuse all the tension Ball or convention, free admission Hustlers, dealers and killers'ca move swift Girls get close, you'ca feel where the tool's kept All my just-comin' homies, parolees Get money, leave the beef alone slowly Get out my face, you people so phoney Pull out my waist, the eagle fo-forty [Chorus] *thugs chanting "Bravehearts!" 4X over DJ scratching gunshots* [Verse 3: Nas] I see niggaz runnin', yo my mood is real rude I lay you out, show you what steel do Mobsters don't box, my pump shot obliges Every invitation to fight you punk hazas Like Pun said, "You ain't even en mi clasa" Maybach Benz, back seat, tv plasma Ladies lookin for athletes or rappers Whatever you choose, whatever you do Make sure he a thug and intelligent too Like a real thoroughbred is, show me love Lemme feel how the head is Females whose the sexiest is always the nastiest *record scratched off, Nas rhymes acapella* And I like a little sassiness, a lotta class Mommy reach in your bag, pass the fifth I'm a leader, at last this a don you wit' My nines'll spit, niggaz loose consciousness |
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