8. Nas - Nas Is Like | Текст песни

• Тексты песен
• 8. Nas
• Nas Is Like

Freedom of jail, clips inserted
A baby is being born the same time my man is murdered
The beginning and end
As far as rap go, it's only natural, I explain, my plateau
And also, what defines my name
First it was nasty, but times have changed
Ask me now, I'm the artist, but hardcore, my sign for pain
I spent time in the game, kept my mind on fame
Saw fiends shoot up, and do lines of cocaine
Saw my close friends shot, flatlining, my same
That the pen carry mac-10's to practice my aim
On rooftops, tape cd covers to trees
Line the barrel up with your weed picture and squeeze
Jesus's scriptures for lost souls, in the crossroads
To the corners thugs hustlin' for cars that cost dough
To the big dogs livin' large, takin' it light
Pushin' big toys, gettin' nice, enjoyin' your life
Is what you make it, suicide, few try to take it
Belt tied around their neck, in jail cells naked
Heaven and hell, rap legend, presence is felt
And of course N - A - S are the letters that spell . . . NAS, NAS

Chorus:
Nas, Nas is like . .(scratching) . life or death (scratching)
My rebel . (scratching). . My poetry's deep, I never fell . .(scratching)
Nas is like .(scratching) . Nas is like . (scratching). . Half man, half
amazin' . .(scratching)
No doubt . (scratching). . Nas is like
(Repeat)

Earth, wind and fire, rims and tires
Bulletproof glass, inside is the realest driver
Planets in orbit, line 'em up with the stars
Tarot cards, you can see the pharaoh Nas
(Nas is like. . -Nas)
Iron mic, messiah type, before the Christ, after the death
The last one left, let my cash invest in stock
Came a along way from blasted techs on block
Went from Seiko to Rolex, ownin' acres
>From the projects with no chips, to large cake dough
Dimes, skinnin' fellatio, siete zeros, bet my nine spit for the pesos
But what's it all worth, can't take it when you under this Earth
Rich men died and tried, but none of it worked
They just rob your grave, I'd rather be alive and paid
Before my number's called, history's made
Some will fall, but I rise, thug or die, makin' choices
That determine my future under the sky, to rob, steal or kill
I'm wondering why, it's a dirty game, is any man worthy of fame
Much to success to ya, even if you wish me the opposite
Sooner or later we'll all see who the prophet is

Chorus

Sex to a nympho, but nothin' sweet
I'm like beef, bustin' heat through your windows
I'm like a street sweeper, green leaf preeper
Like Greeks in Egypt, learnin' something deep from their teachers
I'm like crime, like your nine, your man you would die for
Always got you, I'm like pop to you with crop for it
I'm like a whole lot of loot, I'm like crisp money
Corporate accounts from a rich company
I'm like ecstasy for ladies, I'm like all races combined in one man
like the '99 summer jam, bulletproof hummer man
I'm like being locked down around new faces, and none of 'em fam
I'm the feeling of a millionaire spendin' a hundred grand
I'm a poor man's dream, a thug poet
Live it, and I write down and I watch it blow up
Y'all know what I'm like, ya play it your system every night

Chorus


8. Nas еще тексты