Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Who The Illest, artist - Nas. Date of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Who The Illest |
| Who the illest hub dawg you know |
| Peelin slugs at your mug, dealin drugs in front of the projects |
| My projects, more scatter, more street |
| Makin room for more drama, more hustle, more heat |
| I can show you how to get, American money easy |
| It’s the gangster, all motherfuckers envy |
| Leave all semi I tote, clips empty |
| Foes tempt me, I’m seein no penitentiary |
| Crime scene clean, shells, no prints |
| Flee the shootout, X-5, no |
| It’s meant for me to survive this gangster shit |
| Meant for you not to be livin, food for the pigeons |
| It’s rules I’m givin, new lessons for the street |
| This jungle I’m from B don’t breed no weak |
| Lames that don’t know the game please don’t speak |
| You get killed, want me peeled, I’m showin no nigga |
| + (Sean T) |
| Every nigga out there claimin to be the illest |
| I don’t know if y’all know let a nigga know I’m lost in the stipulations |
| Niggas hatin, everybody waitin for the outcome |
| Whatever happened to just to rappin? |
| (Mic graspin, freestyle flow flashin) |
| (Rippin up tracks and, doin the thang) |
| (What'chu niggas know about Sean T and the Game?) |
| (Who's the illest?) |
| I’m off the rack like slabs of ribs, I want it big |
| I ain’t fuckin with kids, I’m after six digit things |
| Fuck the rings and the tribulations, constant playa hatin |
| This crimin-al lifestyle, keeps me animatin |
| Let’s turf talk before you niggas thuggin it up |
| It don’t matter if you Crip’n, or Blood’n it up |
| Dallas Squad blooded it up, smashin on sight |
| But he hoppin on haters like BMX bikes |
| Fuck around with the Squad see unbearable sights |
| We takin gangster shit to the maximum height |
| But I’m mainly into bubblin, fat grip doublin |
| Big heads I’m lovin 'em, you feelin me y’all |
| Leavin the envious in awe cause I tremendously ball |
| I’m supported by the Game so you know I won’t fall |
| I’ma execute my options, keep wettin my paws |
| And come out unscathed with no scratches or flaws |
| Who’s the illest |
| They say «Game, you rappin like you from the East coast,» meet toast |
| Gun jammed in your throat, forgot that you spoke |
| Game got the streets woke young’n, same nigga got the coke runnin |
| Introduce the new fiends to smack |
| Pops told me when I was younger, you can’t live like that |
| So I don’t listen to pops nigga I listen to Kool G. Rap |
| Went from hustlin sacks to heavy weight, shufflin crack |
| Kids and preachers know me, young Game the O. G |
| Ask the reverand kept the church from fallin, young’uns from starvin |
| I’m the project like Marcy or the Nickerson Gardens |
| Comfortable dawg, Compton to Harlem, any city ghetto or hood |
| Kick back, blowin, listen to Marvin |
| Get head, count dough and just sit in the apartment |
| AK in the sofa, I’m the illest, who come closer |
| To the late ones or great ones fightin over a crown |
| Get shot off that throne, who the illest now, huh? |
| Some say the gangster mentality is dead, imagine that |
| When fools pullin straps out with infrared |
| We’re livin in a time of plagues and corrupt life |
| When homies in the circle end up all trife |
| Tryin to shine bright, but lookin all dim |
| Meanwhile I stay sharp like a ballpoint pen |
| I see the smirks and grins but I just laugh |
| Cause I’m gettin lucrative loot, endless math |
| If you only knew the half of it, you wouldn’t hate |
| But niggas just pig and talk shit behind Jake |
| Man you cain’t knock the hustle, I ain’t fin' to be greedy |
| I want an exit out the game kinda like Paul Vitti |
| I’m tryin to slang CD’s in cruise control |
| Instead of sellin illegal pharmaceuticals |
| Should I ask for your advice? |
| Like you would know |
| Fuck it, I’m out to get it, I’m a fool for dough |