Текст песни Nas -  The Message   
                                        Nas -  The Message слова песни 
                                    
                                    
                             
                            
                            
                                
     
 
                                                                     
Fake thug, no love, you get the slug, CB4 Gusto 
Your luck low, I didn`t know til I was drunk though 
You freak niggaz played out, get fucked and ate out 
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out 
96 ways I made out, Montana way 
The Good-F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray 
Dipped attache, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray 
A glass of `ze make a man Cassius Clay 
Red dot plots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns 
Regulate wit my Dunn`s, 17 rocks gleam from one ring 
Yo let me let y`all niggaz know one thing 
There`s one life, one love, so there can only be one King 
The highlights of livin, Vegas style roll dice in linen 
Antera spinnin on Milleniums, twenty G bets I`m winnin them 
Threats I`m sendin them, Lex with TV sets the minimum 
Ill sex adrenaline 
Party with villians, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny 
Wet any clique, with the semi-tech who want it 
Diamonds I flaunt it, chickenheads flock I lace em 
Fried broiled with basil, taste em, crack the legs 
way out of formation, it`s horizontal how I have em 
fuckin me in the Benz wagon 
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon 
Grab your gun it`s on though 
Shit is grimy, real niggaz buck in broad daylight 
with the broke Mac it won`t spray right 
Don`t give a fuck who they hit, as long as the drama`s lit 
Yo, overnight thugs, bug cause they ain`t promised shit 
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit 
 
[Chorus: samples from "New York State of Mind" (repeat 4X)] 
 
"I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death" -> [Nas] 
"I ain`t the type of brother made for you to start testin"  
-> [Nas] 
 
[Nas] 
I peeped you frontin, I was in the Jeep 
Sunk in the seat, tinted with heat, beats bumpin 
Across the streat you was wildin 
Talkin bout how you ran the Island in eighty-nine 
Layin up, playin the yard with crazy shine 
I cocked a baby 9 that nigga grave be mine, clanked him 
What was he thinkin on my corner when it`s pay me time 
Dug em you owe me cousin somethin told me plug him 
So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb 
Spun around and shot one, heard shots and dropped son 
Caught a hot one, somebody take this biscuit `fore the cops come 
Then they came askin me my name, what the fuck 
I got stitched up and went through 
Left the hospital that same night, what 
Got my gat back, time to backtrack 
I had to drop so how the fuck I get clapped 
Black was in the Jeep watchin all these scenes speed by 
It was a brown Datsun, and yo nobody in my hood got one 
That clown nigga`s through, blazin at his crew daily 
The `Bridge touched me up severely hear me? 
So when I rhyme it`s sincerely yours 
Be lightin L`s sippin Coors, on all floors in project halls 
Contemplatin war niggaz I was cool with before 
We used to score together, Uptown coppin the raw 
But uhh, a thug changes, and love changes 
and best friends become strangers, word up 
 
[Chorus: first from "New York State of Mind", then  
"Halftime" (repeat 4X)] 
 
"Y`all know my steelo" -> [Nas] 
"There ain`t an army that could strike back" -> [Nas] 
 
[Nas] 
Thug niggaz 
Yo, to them thug niggaz gettin it on in the world you know? 
To them niggaz that`s locked down 
doin they thing survivin yaknowmsayin? 
To my thorough niggaz, New York and world wide 
Yo to the Queensbridge Militia 
9-6 shit.. The Firm clique, Illmatic nigga 
It Was Written though 
It`s been a long time comin 
Y`all fake niggaz, tryin to copy 
better come with the real though 
Fake ass niggaz yo.. 
(They throw us slugs we throwin em back, what?) 
Bring the shit man, live man 
(Fuck that son) 
Nine-six shit..