Текст песни Nas - On the Real
Nas - On the Real слова песни
Yeah yeah.On the.. On the.. On the.On the real, all you crab niggaz know the dealFinally up in this niggaLet`s pay homage to IllmaticLet`s put the crown where it`s at10 yearsNever been done this real by nobodyTo my seed, May I lead you into no greed or evilIn the categories of stories I breed my sequelYou know the money, blues, blunts, broken 22`sMonkey see, Monkey doShorty sipping sunny dewNow it`s V.S.O.P. in a Phantom, mad smokyMurder trees, cruisin gat in the stash so it won`t poke meUp in the Trump Plaza, Suite 3010, don`t make no noise cause we dirtyTell them hoes hurry inWe got the room lit up with perfume, and mad boomAnd there`s video taping bloomin ass`s on the zoomin lensRollin on you nondescript niggazYou`re marked for death like Colombians with bad coke that gyp niggazTilt the dutch, twisted up the uwee if you`re skilled enoughIn Will we trust, salute the dead the nine mili bustsThat verse is 10 years old, 9Ѕ years oldStreet`s DiscipleThe Rebirth comin at you this year babyIt`s on babyYeahTo the hood, may this be the day that we pop them bottlesThis is mandatory, what if there`s not tomorrow?You know the murder rate, jealousy, you heard `em sayHe say, she say, I`m bout cheddar, he don`t deserve to makeSippin clear liquor with niggaz, that talk sidewaysListenin close, to every word in case they violateUp in the projects Apartment 5DSpark a lea` it`s bout da reed, countin everything the block seeWe bout to need to take the corners from them cowardsGet it on so y`all can move more coke powder, by the hourHold in case we gotta rip niggazLoaded - Teflon coated projectiles`ll flip niggazFrom ninth grade to lightweight to grams to my mans with guns in handPolice vans, they missed the summers againYeah, power to the peopleDeath to the phoniesThis beast to the mic 1 2 checkY`all fed-e-rallies on meAnd they look like youApproachin me like "How you, Homie?"The F.B.I. see only one problem, they try to slump meAfter the young black male cuz he makes a lot of moneySo hustlers make crack sales cuz they deprived and hungryMy country hates that I could run free state to state with hunniesWhile makin cake with real golded plate rims on Hum-V`sThe bush stroker, the kush smoker, niggaJust when you thought it was over look over your shouldersI`m 30 now, baby sip drinks and sip `em slowMotto no stress, smokin less than I did befo`You see the kid was broke till I spitted vivid expressions of hard livinGhetto children, of a lesser god, religion was fast women, expensive carsY`all witnessin over 10 years - THE BEST OF NAS