Lyrics The Don - Nas

The Don

He’s the heartbeat of the people
The ghetto people, and when I say ghetto people
The people who cannot afford to go to big concert
Some of these people do not even have TV, so they can’t afford cable
Some of them can afford a radio
So the only thing they can listen to is the music
People the ghetto, people from the projects, street people
Hortical ghetto youth who know what it is to sing about suffering and reality
New York girl, dem a mad over we
New York girl, dem a mad over we
New York girl, dem a mad over we
New York girl, dem a mad over we
Nas the Don, Nas the Don, Nas the Don, Nas the Don
Nas the Don, Nas the Don, Nas the Don, Nas the Don
Inna New York City, inna New York City
Inna New York City, inna New York City
Smoking a escubano, guzzle my second bottle
Hope I don’t catch a homo, grossing our net
Simultaneously making me climb higher
Heinous crimes behind me, search but can’t find me
F*ck sadness, gad this been you having this lavish
Habitual happiness at me you wouldn’t look backwards
You would have sex on condominium roof decks
So anyone move next, I’ll hit you with two Tecs
Rocking Roberto Cavalli no shirt on convertible Mazy
My Colombiana mommy riding beside me
Every tat mean something, that’s my word on my body
I’ll have to lean something wit that Mossberg shotty
My niggas is ignant, put lead in yo pigment
Just cuz y’all was mad at all the years I was getting it
In 97 the six, 98 the Bentley
Now it’s the Ghost Phantom and y’all can’t stand 'em but
Army jacket swag, Army jacket green and black
With the square top pocket that snaps, where the gas at?
Pass that, not you, you hold cracks in your asscrack
I never did that, my sock’s where my stash was at
Yo, I used to listen to that Red Alert and Rap Attack
I fell in love with all that poetry I mastered that
Cutting school with Preme team, the Fat Cat was at
Future not crystal clear yet Baccarat
Now I’m the one who repping Queens, way beyond your wildest dreams
Bottles on bottles with sparklers surround my team
That long cash get the baddest b*tches out they jeans
20 years in this game, looking 17
I don’t lean: no codeine, promethazine
I just blow green, pick which b*tch to bless the king
Although he’s on to another chapter
Heavy D gave this beat to Salaam for me to rap to, braah
New York is like an Island, a big Rikers Island
The cops be out wilding, all I hear is sirens
It’s all about surviving, same old two step
Try to stay alive when they be out robbing
I been out rhyming since born knowledge
Like prophet Muhammad said the ink from a scholar
Worth more than the blood of a martyr
So I’mma, keep it on 'til I see a billion dollars
Keep your friends close and your enemies closer
Love model chocha mommy pop it like she 'pose ta
Eyes red shot like I’m never sober
Big time smoker, Indonesian doja
Mini me’s you can hold up before you end up wet up from my soldiers
Don sh*t, under fire I remain on some calm sh*t
This for every ghetto in the hood
Nas the Don, Super Cat the Don Dada, understood?