Nas - The Message lyrics

Nas

Nas [Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones] Brooklyn, NYC, U.S. 🇺🇸

[Nas - The Message lyrics]

Fake thug, no love, you get the slug
CB4 Gusto your luck low
I didn't know 'til I was drunk though
You freak niggas played out
Get fucked and ate out
Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out
96 ways I made out, Montana way
The Good F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray
Dipped attache, jump out the Range
Empty out the ashtray
A glass of 'Zé make a man Cassius Clay
Red dot plots, murder schemes
32 shotguns, regulate with my dunns
17 rocks gleam from one ring
They let me let y'all niggas know one thing
There's one life, one love
So there can only be one King
The highlights of livin', Vegas-style
Roll dice in linen
Antera spinnin' on millenniums
20 G bets I'm winnin' 'em


Threats I'm sendin' 'em
Lex with TV sets the minimum
Ill sex adrenaline
Party with villains, a case of Demi-Sec
To chase the Henny
Wet any clique with the semi TEC
Who want it? Diamonds I flaunt it
Chickenheads flock I lace 'em
Fried broiled with basil taste 'em
Crack the legs way out of formation
It's horizontal how I have 'em fuckin'
Me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon?
Grab your gun, it's on though shit is grimy
Real niggas buck in broad daylight
With the broke MAC that won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit
As long as the drama's lit
Yo, overnight thugs bug ‘cause
They ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hooligans stay on
That piranha shit i never sleep
'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made
For you to start testin' i never sleep
'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made
For you to start testin' i never sleep
'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made
For you to start testin' i never sleep
'cause sleep is the cousin of death
I ain't the type of brother made
For you to start testin'

I peeped you frontin'
I was in the Jeep sunk in
The seat, tinted with heat, beats bumpin'
Across the street you was wildin'
Talkin' about how you ran the Island in '89
Layin' up, playin' the yard with crazy shine
I cocked the baby 9, that nigga grave be mine
Clanked him what was he thinkin'?
On my corner when it's pay-me time
Dug 'em, you owe me, cousin
Somethin' told me "Plug him!"
So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb
Spun around and shot one
Heard shots and dropped, son
Caught a hot one
Somebody take this biscuit 'fore
The cops come
Then they came askin' me my name
What the fuck? I got stitched up
It went through
Left the hospital that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had the drop so how the fuck I get clapped?
Black was in the Jeep watchin'
All he seen speed by was a brown Datsun
And yo, nobody in my hood got one
That clown nigga's through
Blazin' at his crew daily
The Bridge touched me up severely, hear me?
So when I rhyme it's sincerely yours
Be lightin' Ls
Sippin' Coors on all floors in project halls
Contemplatin' war niggas I was
Cool with before we used to score together
Uptown coppin' the raw
But, uh a thug changes and love changes
And best friends become strangers (Word up)
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an
Army that could strike back
Y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that
Could strike back y'a–Y'all know my steelo
Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that
Could strike back y'a–Y'all know my steelo
There ain't an army that could strike back

Thug niggas, yo, to them thug niggas
Gettin' it on in the world, you know?
To them niggas that's locked down
Doin' they thing, survivin'
Ya know'm sayin'?
To my thorough niggas, New York and worldwide
Yo, to the Queensbridge Militia
9-6 shit, The Firm clique
Illmatic, nigga, It Was Written though
It's been a long time comin'
Y'all fake niggas, tryin' to copy
Better come with the real
Though, fake-ass niggas, yo
(They throw us slugs, we throwin' them back
What) bring the shit, man! Live, man!
(Fuck that son, word up) 9-6 shit

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