Raekwon, Nas - Brother's Keeper lyrics
Nas [Nasir bin Olu Dara Jones] Brooklyn, NYC, U.S. 🇺🇸
[Raekwon, Nas - Brother's Keeper lyrics]
I flip the bronze e
Watching King Kong in the palm
Smoke alotta cheeba, chilling
Cuz it's all about marketing
Hold the mic, I'm hogging it
Handle the goose shit
Word up, mixing the true shit
My niggas'll shoot shit
Trees lean, we get it tight
We get fucked right we up in the telly
Lighting up with the crack light
My mind calculation
Attract like I'm counting peso's
Out in turban caco's with some fake ho's
The bling swing, a many mansion
A break phantom
Floating through the town on some
Old new improved shit
Swerve coming through shit, vandals
In coupe shit, yo
Animal blue shit, my scramblers move with
A kingley, getting blunted to nine hundred
Floating through the town on some old -
Coming through the town on some old -
Turn up the mics (the world is mine
The world is, the world is
The world is mine) turn up the mics
(yeah, the whole world is mine)
I'm Nasty but fuck bitches, handcuff snitches
Feed they nuts to pit bulls
And plan more business
Got sluts on leashes walkin on all fours
Have 'em eatin from dog
Bowls pettin' they heads
Cause they love playin that role
They sexy in bed
Smokin bud' I'm outta control wish
Death on the feds cup spills with Grey Goose
Watchin snuff films
Laughin with dykes that wear
Patent leather with spikes
My cheddar is right
Miami beach playin it low
St barts rent a house and a boat
Two hundred thou' on my throat
That's only half of what my wife ice cost
Phonecall, hearin another boss got
His life lost
Well, wipin' sand off of my toes
Read a book called "Catcher in the rye"
I chose
Some Bob Marley then I plotted a scheme
To make me and Bump Knux more rich
Then I got me a team, he got 'em a team
He tryin to buy G-force
With missile launchers
Tired of walkin' around with beef
With that pistols on us
C-4's better I'm callin up
Some B-More killers to come and bleed you
As sure as the sun's in
The sky you'll surely die
You washed up, fuck your people
Your money ain't as long as mine
You dumb and you foul
Who you tryin to squeeze all
This fuck with Alzheimer's disease
We the new breed, nigga, turn up the mics
Yeah, you know where I'm from
I'm from Staten Island, man
Word up, ya'll know it as Shaolin
I call it Staten Island, man
Cuz niggas get they legs broke
When they try to front, man
Fuck it, he rhyme? He talking
Shit, let's break his fingers, man
Can't write no more, word up
We specialize in choking niggas
Throwing niggas in cars, driving off and shit
Open the door on your ass
You know how them Pontiac days went
Watching King Kong in the palm
Smoke alotta cheeba, chilling
Cuz it's all about marketing
Hold the mic, I'm hogging it
Handle the goose shit
Word up, mixing the true shit
My niggas'll shoot shit
Trees lean, we get it tight
We get fucked right we up in the telly
Lighting up with the crack light
My mind calculation
Attract like I'm counting peso's
Out in turban caco's with some fake ho's
The bling swing, a many mansion
A break phantom
Floating through the town on some
Old new improved shit
Swerve coming through shit, vandals
In coupe shit, yo
Animal blue shit, my scramblers move with
A kingley, getting blunted to nine hundred
Floating through the town on some old -
Coming through the town on some old -
Turn up the mics (the world is mine
The world is, the world is
The world is mine) turn up the mics
(yeah, the whole world is mine)
I'm Nasty but fuck bitches, handcuff snitches
Feed they nuts to pit bulls
And plan more business
Got sluts on leashes walkin on all fours
Have 'em eatin from dog
Bowls pettin' they heads
Cause they love playin that role
They sexy in bed
Smokin bud' I'm outta control wish
Death on the feds cup spills with Grey Goose
Watchin snuff films
Laughin with dykes that wear
Patent leather with spikes
My cheddar is right
Miami beach playin it low
St barts rent a house and a boat
Two hundred thou' on my throat
That's only half of what my wife ice cost
Phonecall, hearin another boss got
His life lost
Well, wipin' sand off of my toes
Read a book called "Catcher in the rye"
I chose
Some Bob Marley then I plotted a scheme
To make me and Bump Knux more rich
Then I got me a team, he got 'em a team
He tryin to buy G-force
With missile launchers
Tired of walkin' around with beef
With that pistols on us
C-4's better I'm callin up
Some B-More killers to come and bleed you
As sure as the sun's in
The sky you'll surely die
You washed up, fuck your people
Your money ain't as long as mine
You dumb and you foul
Who you tryin to squeeze all
This fuck with Alzheimer's disease
We the new breed, nigga, turn up the mics
Yeah, you know where I'm from
I'm from Staten Island, man
Word up, ya'll know it as Shaolin
I call it Staten Island, man
Cuz niggas get they legs broke
When they try to front, man
Fuck it, he rhyme? He talking
Shit, let's break his fingers, man
Can't write no more, word up
We specialize in choking niggas
Throwing niggas in cars, driving off and shit
Open the door on your ass
You know how them Pontiac days went