| Yo, yo, I live it and I speak it My religion is reefer
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| Big money in most, an uninhibited freak to sleep with
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| My visions are realistic, nothing’s figurative
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| I can wish it into existence, God want this nigga to live
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| Blunt big as a dread, I get high and forget who bled
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| Who we stomp-kicked in the head and who we left for dead
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| Who are you niggas? |
| Why argue niggas?
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| The truth is the truth, I really put my scars on niggas
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| They wait a lifetime, they tell they hoes, «Nas did this»
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| Pointin’to they scars like, «Right here, baby, really Nas did this»
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| Like a badge of honor, not braggin’I’m just honest
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| War stories we tell them, nothin’s realer than karma
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| Sip prohibition liquor, prohibition whiskey
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| Rap Jack Demsey, Matt Black Bentley, pimply
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| Shatterin’your silence, pass around the chalice
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| Due to my Indian ancestry at the weed dispensery
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| Official kings and gents is who I mix and mingle with
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| Fuck your ice, I rock rubies, amethyst
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| I fuck your wife cause she a groupie, scandalous
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| This for my bad hood bitches, ghetto glamorous
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| Yo, what we talkin''bout niggas?
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| What we talkin''bout niggas?
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| This is Nas, what, Nas
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| What, Nasty, what, recollect,
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| At seventeen I made seventeen thousand livin’in public housin'
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| Integrity in tact, reppin’hard
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| They askin’how he disappear and reappear back on top
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| Sayin', «Nas must have naked pictures of God or somethin'»
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| To keep winnin’is my way like Francis
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| As long as I’m breathin', I’ll take chances
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| A soldier comin’home, twenty years old with no legs
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| Sayin’there’s no sense to cry and complain, just go 'head
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| So much to write and say, yo I don’t know where to start
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| So I’ll begin with the basics and flow from the heart
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| I know you think my life is good cause my diamond piece
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| But my life been good since I started finding peace
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| I shouldn’t even be smilin', I should be angry and depressed
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| I been rich longer than I been broke, I confess
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| I started out broke, got rich, lost paper then made it back
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| Like Trump bein’up down up, play with cash
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| My nigga’s like a locomotive
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| Nas, we push it, mush 'em
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| Queensbridge to Bushwick
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| Harlem, Bronx, all that
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| You ain’t even supposed to be out here
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| You know where you at?
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| Verse 3: Nas]
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| At night, New York, eat a slice too hot
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| Use my tongue to tear the skin hangin’from the roof of my mouth
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| Shit was Falicimo, melted pot, city sweltering hot
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| Staggerin’drunker than those cops that 2pac shot
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| I was a crook by the train with that iron thing, concealed
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| Reachin', soon as I heard them iron wheels screechin'
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| When it came to a halt whoever walked off got caught
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| Toker man safe behind a locked door for sure
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| Minor theif shit, minor league shit, beastin'
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| Lookin’for the young, but now we older chiefin'
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| In my truck, play The Greatest Adventures of Slick Rick
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| Buggin’on how his imagination was so sick
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| It’s ghetto beef, sinister niggas snicker through yellow teeth
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| Alchohol agin’my niggas faster than felonies
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| How dare I? |
| Must be, somethin’in the air that corrupts me Look at my upkeep, owned and sublease
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| I’m here y’all
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| This for my trapped in the 90′s niggas
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| For my trapped in the 90′s niggas
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| Ha, for y’all niggas |