Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song You Wouldn't Understand, artist - Nas.
Date of issue: 31.12.2011
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
You Wouldn't Understand |
Yeah, Harlem, Bronx, Brooklyn |
Let’s make a bet, I know the reason you ain’t make it yet |
You say you set, but you ain’t see the tedious ingredients |
That go inside of a rider, you hiding from problems and |
You never knew how to make dollars |
You couldn’t make orders at a drive-through McDonald’s |
I was fly at the Apollo with black Jason, '89 with a bottle |
Niggas jealous of Jason, dark green seven forty, no tint |
Rollie on wrist, gleaming he rock the baldy |
Used to ride with him to Brooklyn, Lewis, and Halsey |
Cop chocolate thai, Vernon style and burn it down |
My nigga hype in the federal joint, verdict out |
20 years getting money in the dirty south |
That’s alleged, you see my nigga’s a stand up dude |
So I’m yelling free my nigga |
My nephew godfather Malik, he jammed up too |
For what his hands usually call for, but he ain’t do it |
Who you are ain’t in the recipe to what I am |
Cause where I’m from, man, what I see |
You wouldn’t understand where I been and what I do |
No matter how you try you never can |
Cause where I’m from and what I see |
You wouldn’t understand where I been, where I been |
You ever been on the other end of a robber’s revolver? |
Not me, call me Lucky Nas Casalana |
All been shot in the medulla oblongata and survived |
And praised God with a bullet, I never collided |
Some did and they lived, I salute the gods |
Moet spilling, splash my mistake on my Timb boots for y’all |
N.Y. nigga, Adidas, jogging suit |
Shelltoes, slim, fly nigga |
Hudson River, rent a boat, t-shirt with a dinner coat |
A vintage Fila like I’m the ghost of Domencio |
On any day getting throwed in a tinted vehicle |
Like a old BK gangsta, but I’m the CEO |
Of Nasty Nas Enterprise, mastermind, made men |
My success symbolizes loyalty, great friends |
Dedication, hard work, routine builds character |
In a world full of snakes, rats and scavengers |
Never make choices out of desperation, I think through it |
Break through walls like Pink Floyd |
And drink fluids of all kind of alcohol, y’all |
Vineyards in France, yachts out in Cannes |
Who you are ain’t in the recipe to what I am |
Cause where I’m from, man, what I see |
You wouldn’t understand where I been and what I do |
No matter how you try you never can |
Cause where I’m from and what I see |
You wouldn’t understand where I been, where I been |
Now holla at a millionaire |
Rollie, Hublot and Audemar, deciding which one to wear |
Who to screw, what to drive, 550 with the cream guts inside |
Or the Super Sport Range truck is fly |
Diamond ring on my knuckles like fire, bitch |
Gat’s on us, I don’t really trust these guys |
Spend a couple bucks a night on bottles on cuties |
If she beautiful, the lustful type, I’ll hit it and bust inside |
Fuck it, I’ma die one day, they gon' probably make that day a holiday |
Until then, let’s go on a shopping spree |
Speaking for my real niggas, only OGs |
Certified who kill niggas when put in that seat |
But tonight we on chill, nigga, chill mode |
Spill more Spades, listen to Jeezy and Hov, some Rozay |
It’s like we always on the grind with no brakes |
So tonight we gon' act like we on vacation with this on rotation |
Who you are ain’t in the recipe to what I am (word) |
Cause where I’m from, man, what I see |
You wouldn’t understand where I been and what I do |
(Y'all wouldn’t understand) |
No matter how you try you never can |
(You wouldn’t last a day in my shoes, homie) |
Cause where I’m from and what I see (yeah) |
You wouldn’t understand where I been, where I been |
True B nigga, yeah |
For my hood niggas, yeah, yeah |
To my man Eric B., what up, yeah |
The whole city, I see you |
To my man Big Slate in the fed joint |
My man Spunk, free my niggas |
All my niggas, yeah |
Club Vernon, I see you |
I see you, yeah |
And Baltum, I see you |