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04/21/10(Wed)06:47 No.9331122 File1271846843.jpg-(213 KB, 500x500, nas-xxl.jpg)
And he be pumping on your block Your man gave him your glock And now they run together, what up son, whatever Since I'm on the streets I'm gonna put it to a cease But I heard you blew a nigga with a ox for the phone piece Whylin on the Island, but now with Elmira Better chill cause them niggas will put that ass on fire Last time you wrote you said they tried you in the showers But maintain when you come home the corner's ours On the reels, all these crab niggas know the deal When we start the revolution all they probably do is squeal But chill, see you on the next V-I I gave your mom dukes loot for kicks, plus sent you flicks Your brother's buck whylin' in four maine he wrote me He might beat his case, 'til he come home I play it low key So stay civilised, time flies Though incarcerated your mind (dies) I hate it when your mum cries It kinda wants to make me murder, for real-a I've even got a mask and gloves to bust slugs for one love
[Verse Three] Sometimes I sit back with a Buddha sack Mind's in another world thinking how can we exist through the facts Written in school text books, bibles, et cetera Fuck a school lecture, the lies get me vexed-er So I be ghost from my projects I take my pen and pad for the week And hitting L's while I'm sleeping A two day stay, you may say I need the time alone To relax my dome, no phone, left the 9 at home You see the streets have me stressed somethin terrible Fucking with the corners have a nigga up in Belleville Or h.d.m., hit with numbers from 8 to 10 A future in a maximum state pen is grim So I comes back home, nobody's helping shorty doo-wop Rollin two Phillies together in the Bridge we called 'em oowops He said, "Nas, niggas could be bustin' off the roof So I wear a bullet proof and pack a black tres-deuce" |