Текст песни Nas - God`s Son, слова песни Nas

Текст песни Nas - God`s Son

Nas - God`s Son слова песни

*shotgun blast**old school break beat, thugs chant "Bravehearts!" 7X*[Verse 1: Nas]Uh, uh, uh, now let`s get it all in perspectiveFor all y`all enjoyment, a song y`all can step wit`Y`all appointed me to bring rap justiceBut I ain`t five-O, y`all know it`s Nas yoGrey goose and a whole lotta hydroOnly describe us as soldier survivorsStay laced in the best, well dressed with finesseIn a white tee lookin for wifieThug girl who fly and talks so nicelyPut her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breezeWe can drive thru the city no doubt, but don`t say my car`s toplessSay the titties is out, newness here`s the anthemPut your hand up that you shoot with, count your loot wit`Push the pool stick in your new crib, same hand that you hoop withSwing around like you stu-pid, king`a the town, yeah I been thatYou know I click-clack where you and yor men`s atDo the Smurf, do the Wop, Baseball BatRooftop like we bringing `88 back[Chorus: Nas]They shootin`! -- Aw made you lookYou a slave to a page in my rhyme bookGettin` Big/"big" money, playboy your time`s upWhere them gangstas? Where them dimes at?They shootin`! -- Aw made you lookYou a slave to a page in my rhyme bookGettin` Big/"big" money, playboy your time`s upWhere them gangstas at? Where them dimes at?[Verse 2: Nas]This ain`t rappin, this is Street-HopNow get up off your ass like your seat`s hotMy live niggaz lit up the reeferTrunk`a the car we got the streetsweeperDon`t start none, won`t be noneNo reason for your mans to panicYou don`t wanna see no ambulancesKnock a pimp`s drink down in his pimp cupThat`s the way you get Timberland`d upLet the music diffuse all the tensionBall or convention, free admissionHustlers, dealers and killers`ca move swiftGirls get close, you`ca feel where the tool`s keptAll my just-comin` homies, paroleesGet money, leave the beef alone slowlyGet out my face, you people so phoneyPull 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 rudeI lay you out, show you what steel doMobsters don`t box, my pump shot obligesEvery invitation to fight you punk hazasLike Pun said, "You ain`t even en mi clasa"Maybach Benz, back seat, tv plasmaLadies lookin for athletes or rappersWhatever you choose, whatever you doMake sure he a thug and intelligent tooLike a real thoroughbred is, show me loveLemme feel how the head isFemales whose the sexiest is always the nastiest*record scratched off, Nas rhymes acapella*And I like a little sassiness, a lotta classMommy reach in your bag, pass the fifthI`m a leader, at last this a don you wit`My nines`ll spit, niggaz loose consciousness

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Nas

God`s Son

Текст песни Nas - God`s Son

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