[Produced by Trackmasters]
[Verse 1: Nas]
They never realized how real Nas is, so decisive
It's just the likeness of Israelites mist that made me write this
A slight twist of lime rhyme, be chasing down your prime-time
Food for thought, or rather mind wine
The Don Juan features the freak shit
My thesis on how we creep quick
Fucking your wife, that ain't no secret
It's mandatory — see, that pussy, they hand it to me
I got no game, it's just some bitches understand my story
There ain't no drama that my niggas never handled for me
My gator brand is Mauri, walking through rough land before me
Where the snakes put a smile on they face
Hoping and praying I'm stuck
Scoping, they lay in the cut, weighing my luck
Player haters play this in cell blocks and rocked stages
Winking at some female cops with cocked gauges
Really, it's papers I'm addicted to
Wasn't for rap, then I'd be sticking you
The MAC inside the Triple Goose
Face down on the floor's the routine
Don't want hear nobody blow steam
Just C.R.E.A.M. or it's a smoke screen
Imagine that, that's why I hardly kick the bragging raps
I zone, to each his own in this ghetto inhabitant
[Verse 1: Nas]
They never realized how real Nas is, so decisive
It's just the likeness of Israelites mist that made me write this
A slight twist of lime rhyme, be chasing down your prime-time
Food for thought, or rather mind wine
The Don Juan features the freak shit
My thesis on how we creep quick
Fucking your wife, that ain't no secret
It's mandatory — see, that pussy, they hand it to me
I got no game, it's just some bitches understand my story
There ain't no drama that my niggas never handled for me
My gator brand is Mauri, walking through rough land before me
Where the snakes put a smile on they face
Hoping and praying I'm stuck
Scoping, they lay in the cut, weighing my luck
Player haters play this in cell blocks and rocked stages
Winking at some female cops with cocked gauges
Really, it's papers I'm addicted to
Wasn't for rap, then I'd be sticking you
The MAC inside the Triple Goose
Face down on the floor's the routine
Don't want hear nobody blow steam
Just C.R.E.A.M. or it's a smoke screen
Imagine that, that's why I hardly kick the bragging raps
I zone, to each his own in this ghetto inhabitant
Comments (0)
The minimum comment length is 50 characters.
Information
Users of Guests are not allowed to comment this publication.
There are no comments yet. You can be the first!