Lyrics:
hard
That's even tho' yo' CEO talk shit, get slapped hard
The backyard is where we get our scrap on
The black car drive by, then you get capped
off
How, nigga? My last album was The Chronic (nigga)
They wanna know if he still got it
They say rap's changed, they wanna know how I feel about it
And shunned by society. In 1979 he released a double album called
"Plans For Suicide," announced his retirement, and hasan't performed in
Public since he's now
Give me the cue
Skip the introduction
Proceed the lip function
The junction get rushed by some grimy people busting weed
Splatter your melons like
to rap
I ain't gotta clap at 'em
Niggas scared of that black
I drop that Black…Album then I back…out it
As the best rapper alive, nigga ask about me
From
ain't backing down for nothing
I'ma back em down like Shaq with this black 2-2-3 in my hand
Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man
Grandfather's black metal band.
Well they started the tempo at 208
But by two numbers later
They could barely stand straight
And the bass player had trouble
[Nas]
The Firm, Trackmasters, Escobar, Allure Keep it raw!
A-yo the bridge keep rockin
we comin through bottles popin
Allure when your album
to saddle up the Tontos cause I'm the Lone Ranger
I eat dinner with Jews but don't talk to strangers
I'm just a few albums from filling your disc changer
If
a picture hardcore with a gun
Pimpin' ain't easy but it's always fun (it ain't easy baby)
When it comes to nuts, I bust'em one by one
So what's the 411
Half a year later, still ain't heard an album greater
The natives want me out of the office, back on the pavement
Jokers at the top know the king
voltage of an eel
Truth that I reveal'll
Crush the amateurs who scream they keep it real
Caesar black down, hoodied up in fatigues
Part-time minor
"By And By The Way"
words and music © Grant Maloy Smith
From the album APPALACHIA: AMERICAN STORIES
Deep in contemplation
Praying in my hands
Lord
take over everything around
I’m gunning, I’m coming to shoot you down
And no, you can’t run, apocalypse
The invincible young Clint
See I came from
the streets, we back in the lab
Aight then, let's go Nas
It's time, it's album time, yeah
It's time?
It's time, Black, it's time
get off tour I think we should hang and black out together.
Because I've been feeling sentimental for days gone by...
all those summers singing,
niggaz and by the way all my niggaz move boulders
Like Barney rubble any trouble free muffle the gat
I'm young and black with a chip on my shoulder
Its
Wszyscy w czerni cała nasza banda
Wszyscy w czerni to nie jest zabawa
Wszyscy stoją w czerni
Wszyscy pragną pengi
Wszyscy przeplatają dźwięki
By
me
We've come a long way since H.O.C. (watch)
I live by the beat, I die by the beat, since 1990, I (I)
Live by the beat, I die by the beat, like
outselling you
By 29 I had three albums that had blew
Now let's talk about somethin' I don't really do
Go in someone's daughter's mouth stealin' food
But
sixty
Gimme the mic an I'ma solve all mystery
I dare any punk to try to step up and diss me
'cause when he do, that's when he kiss dee
Titles go by
don't mind
It takes a lotta spine
To build all them young minds
Some of us get ghetto at the wrong damn time
Album what? we just makin' one
flow and blow
Puerto Rico Southside Latin you're feed pattern
Black people mingle white people buy my single
Bingo bangle let go my
of the Wimbledon
[Chorus]
Uh, dear whoever the fuck is witnessing
Disturbing London independent black businessmen
Based on the work and the effort I'm gonna
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