Lyrics Body in a Box - Nas

Body in a Box

So many niggas get fucked up in the game
See, that’s where they get caught out there in that word «Game»
'Cause it’s not no fuckin' game
When you hear shells coming at ya
Hot ones from a shotgun, I bet nigga runs faster
Loose a shoe to get away from a blaster
Think about that casket—you don’t wanna be in that shit
Quick to take consignment;
you taking everybody’s package
Money over bitches was the law you practiced
So you act as if money was no object
Spendin' fazools, trips for your whole projects
Epcot Center, linens for ya bitches, Rolies for your dogs
Now we in the mall, slayed by his bitches
Every day I’m reminiscing, how he was living, having fun
'Cause any day coulda led to prison
Not for a short bid, 'cause if the feds ever caught kid
It’d be like 25 years conspiracy
Another 25 for RICO, snatching up him and his people
He had his jeep bulletproof, silencers on the Desert Eagle
Flipping bricks in Gary, Indiana
He had it locked down from the streets to the slammer
Only trusted two things: his trigger and his hammer
Used to be a bum 'til he had a six-month run
Had a lawsuit, 30 G’s, the case was won
Met with Mexican Hoyé, cop boya
Bought a barbershop, named it after seeing Sade
That’s where they found his body, in a barber chair face down
Bullets in his chest, sliced apart from the waist down
Planned to sell his shop, stick Hoyé for everything he got
Take jewels and his pies
Fill his shoes with cement and drop his body in the tides
But Hoyé was wise
Even when he ain’t around he got ears and eyes
Gotta stay a step ahead of this game to stay alive
Always wanted fame, always wanted cash
To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass
Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5
Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive
Always wanted fame, always wanted cash
To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass
Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5
Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive
Cokehead Sandra, she grew in Gowanus
Her man was large and Sandra was his baby mama
Stayed in drama, fighting with hood rats that he was fucking
No job all day, she did nothing
They son was 7-years-old, she really was a wifey
First should she would transport blow, overnight for a G
He paid up front, they laid up once
She got pregnant, she wouldn’t dead it
She had a boy, named her son Infinite after his father who did dirt
She didn’t know disaster would follow
Capsules and bottles of crack in the back of his Mazda
He let her drive while he drove the burgundy 5
He often talk about how he wants to murder these guys
From off of Bergen Street, had mad work in the street
Lifestyle, richest nigga, far from how he used to be
Never thought he’d rock diamonds;
never took weakness for kindness
That’s how he gradually grew
Did a favor for a favor—now the nigga in with the crew
And now he live major, house in Dix Hills next to Brooke Shields
With the cook and the maid, shit was real
Saved his first bills made in his bodega
«Good luck, player» sign on the paper taped in the window
Escaped from a would-be kidnap, and slept
Thought niggas feared his rep 'til he got wet
Woulda had the world in his hands, his girl did a scam
The owner’s rich, is boning niggas to get rid of her man
Welcome to the game, baby
Always wanted fame, always wanted cash
To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass
Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5
Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive
Always wanted fame, always wanted cash
To live fast, get the girls with the biggest ass
Fuck a 9 to 5, gotta drive a 5
Now that I got it, the hardest thing to do is stay alive
The hardest thing to do is stay alive
The hardest thing to do is stay alive