Tytuł: Made You Look

• Wykonawca: Nas
• Wyświetleń: 242

[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