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Tytuł: You gotta love it

  • Wykonawca: Nas
  • Wy¶wietleń: 316

  
   [Az] This is what they want
  [Nas] What you say?
  [Az] This is what they want
  [Nas] Can't hear you man
  [Az] This is what they want
  [Nas] Speak the fuck up...What!
  
  Nastradamus, skama lit
  Know when I wreck
  Flow when I'm set
  I got the chips to make a lotus my whip
  Gold on my neck was once a code of respect
  For highrollers and becks, now its those of braguettes
  Prefer a mack 10 over a tech
  No matter sober or wet, I smack soldier condects
  Trees it might've jacked my hype back
  Famous phrase "nigga light that"
  Hoes that you fuck asking where your ice at
  Dun, its all about playboys when we were young
  Could only get tongue, then finally we could cum
  Bustin hoes, gazzling 4-0's
  Crack blitz in 86, you turned hustling pro
  >From bottles to holding seven in your hand
  To pay debts, to get to the crack, unscrew the can
  Gleam blunted hundred sack embowed with a seam on it
  We got it if the fiends want it
  The whole block singing the same theme "dawn it"
  Fuck it too many crabs in a bucket
  If its icework, I'm gonna chuck it
  Fuck it, you gotta love it
  
  Chorus:
  [Az] This is what they want
  [Nas] Fuck it! You gotta love it
  Repeat 3 times
  
  Some girls get emotional, fanatic extremis
  Compulsive with malice incentives
  The foulest of bitches, hung on my riches, her childish wishes
  Be suspicous, of those sleeping with fishes
  Them hoes, conspicuous and it shows
  Tricking his doe, kicking his flow, slipping you fold
  So when your clique roll, I let my clips go, niggas on opposite poles
  I got that confidence sewed, for those locked in a hole
  In humane living hostile opposed, to live on the streets
  Proper from my top to my toes, aeropostale my clothes
  Burning niggas in surburbans with liquor
  Prosperous foes, finicky foul niggas
  See niggas and blacks there goes a loud difference
  Coke sniffing, tapping 13 year old chickens
  You can't be a kingpin when you snitching
  Regardless, we still make you a target
  We shoot you in jail, chrome objects hit you in your own projects
  It's street economics, this rhyme was edited, credited, thru ebonics
  Miserable cats, hunger paining
  Get off your ass stop complaining
  My crew be in Montego Bay migrating
  Marinating while you home waiting your arraignment
  This thuglife you claimed it, I made millions of entertainment
  Now back in the hood certains cats, they wanna kill me
  They icegrill me, but on the low they feel me
  You gotta love it.....