Текст песни Nas - Made You Look (Remix)
Nas - Made You Look (Remix) слова песни
[Intro: Jadakiss]I need it from the top, AHHH!This is history babyCommissioner Steve Stoute, Lenny - ha!God`s Son, whattup?D-Block, whattup?Bravehearts, whattup? YeahYeah, yo[Verse One: Jadakiss]Yo ain`t nothin but trouble GodWhen I kick in the door with D-Block, Bravehearts and the Double RDon`t make me let the machine offThis is methadone music that you can lean off"Made You Look," the remix with me up on itI copped your shit, now I break weed up on itAnd everything is real I seeLike my niggaz that been home but they only got a jail IDI helped the game, it ain`t help meI`m top five dead or alive and that`s just off one LPAnd, I still buzz, they feel cuzCause they know the flow`s Ill just like Will wasI`m just tryin to make sure that my sons wealthyOut of shape but I make sure that my guns healthyI`m a ape, you can`t stand `KissComin through the hood in a Aston Vanguish the color of dandruffThey said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff himCopped P then turboed soon as they uncuff himThis goes out to all of your mansWhy put you in the verse when I can put in a coroner vanD-Block[Chorus 2X: Nas]THEY SHOOTIN! Ah made you lookYou a slave to a page in my rhyme bookGettin big money, playboy your time`s upWhere them gangsters, where them dimes at?[Verse Two: Ludacris]Yuh, woo! It`s time to go, Luda let`s go!I`m from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks and low blowsWhere X`s mark spots and kitchens mark O`sWhere love is gon` getcha and hate is gon` snitch yaAnd fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictorsIt`s the, Mr. Luda, Jada and NasAnd our bullets give you a deep tissue massageSo hear a song and dance while I make these endsYou never stood half a chance like Siamese TwinsAHHH - THEY SHOOTIN, look in the barrelThen he made the front page of the Miami Heraldor Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doomWe in that A-Town Journal-list, filed with goonsYou should print my information, quote my rhymeAnd keep me in between these New York and L.A. TimesI was the victim of society, it`s `Cris the menaceWith mo` shit out on the streets than evicted tenantsWOOOOOOOO![Chorus][Interlude: Nas]Uhh.. uhh..(BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS..)Jungle, Wiz, Nashawn!We got `em scared lookWe got `em scared they runnin[Verse Three: Nas]Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blinker, the biscuit, the burnerThe heat, the toaster, the twister you meetin your ownerThe banger, the hammer, the flamers I aim at the cannonsand can ya, manhandlin ya, you`ll be famous like cancer doAnd cut, that`s the end of your moviePretendin you actin like you and your mens`ll come shoot meMy tennis shoes Gucci, old school pea soup greenJean Lee suit on Beaver, clicko champagneFriday the 13th my CD drop, I rhyme to more Base than EZ RockI`m Jason, call up P.D. watchthem Bravehearts, Jungle and Wiz and NashawnIll Will rasta Lake, never revealin his face onTV or pictures or even them niggazSorry that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone {*beat scratches out*}WE SHOOTIN! Squeezin them triggers with Luda beside meMe and `Kiss get Luniz of weed, set to Styles P.Tell him hold his head, God`s Son got him we made y`all lookFrom San Quentin to Riker`s Island to.. {*fades out*}