| What nigga! |
| What bitch-ass niggas! |
| What!
|
| Babe, babe, start the car!
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| (Nasir, come on, let’s go!
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| Get in the car now, let’s go! |
| Throw it out, let’s go!
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| Aight, aight, aight, yeah
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| But I got 'em. |
| But I got 'em, though
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| (This is crazy, why didn’t you just throw it out of the car?
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| This is so stupid, what are you doing?
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| Why are we even out here?
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| Why are we out here? |
| What’s going on?
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| This is retarded, yo, we gotta…
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| This is crazy. |
| Never again
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| You’d throw everything away, for what?
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| Yeah, my man Kool G Rap told me, «Son, do not look back»
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| Chill up in the mansion with a fat glutious max, relax
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| When people act schoolin' with facts, tell 'em
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| At this point in my life I’m all about chillin'
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| Ridin' around in something sick and the dress flies
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| And twist, homie’s hermano just died, I gotta let it ride
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| That’s what I got the public thinkin', my nigga
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| Just ‘cause I ain’t in the hood don’t mean shit, my nigga
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| I know who died before the body dropped
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| I know the guns that were used
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| How much money the shooter got
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| ‘Cause on the private yacht I’m still within earshot of it all
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| The top ten list of the most grimiest guys of all time
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| Is all we talk when we talk in New York, y’all
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| Who to call and who to stay away from
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| Whose mother’s address to have just to play it safe, son
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| Women they lust up so quick to give 'em up
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| What cars and what trucks they drive in
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| What towns they spend the most time in when they grindin'
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| I found out most of them are cowards
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| They hidin' behind reputations that’s sour; |
| I’m not going back
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| The streets keep tryin' to say
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| Come back around this way
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| I’ve already gone that way
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| I won’t go back today
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| I’m not going back!
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| First thing that happen when you make a little paper
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| You think the Marriot is livin' in a skyscraper
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| Till you come across some ever more flyer paper
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| Realize that five-star tellies are even greater
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| Terry-cloth robes, elegance, movie shit
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| Heated-up marble floors with jacuzzis in it
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| First-class flights, diamonds in your crucifixes
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| All those things, you still ain’t really doing shit, kid
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| ‘Cause in reality, I’ll earn my salary
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| The way I flaunted it then would now embarrass me
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| It kinda make me wanna hate bling
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| It’s a race thing how they sell blacks to bootleg shit
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| In fact, real millionaires spend 60 mil on paintings
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| Whores charge niggas with raping
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| ‘Cause we come out doors of Maybach cars
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| Watch us make bets on race tracks, smokin' cigars
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| So they counter the laws to take what’s ours
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| 'Bout 500K on a lawyer to beat the charge
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| So you can’t stop us from making a billion dollars
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| Instead of going back, I’m buying the projects
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| But I’m not going back
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| The hood’s in me forever y’all, but I’m not going back
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| And of course y’all know what I’m not going back to
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| Those no friends of mine… (And I’m not going back to)
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| Ten carat gold, it shine… (And I’m never going back to)
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| Sony, if they don’t have dough to sign…
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| (Not going back to)
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| Y’all know that I’m not going back to
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| Those liars who would… (Not going back to)
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| Not help you if they could… (Not going back to)
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| Coke on the stove in the hood…
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| Y’all should know that I’m not going back
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| The hood’s in me forever y’all, but I’m not going back |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Not Going Back, artist - Nas. Album song Hip Hop Is Dead, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп