Nas, DJ Clue? - Live From the Bridge lyrics

Yo, this is Nas with my Man DJ Clue
The Professional part two
Puttin' it down for you fake ass
DJ's and shit like that
Straight outta QB all the way
Around the fuckin' world
Black Frank Sinatra on yo' ass
QB braveheart nigga

Was classified as the bastard who died
Rumors say I came back alive with an axe
And attacked niggas actin' like Nas
My passion is to capitalize
Come through my hood you get
Jacked for your ride
Catch you from the passengers side
My words turn the sea red
Like the eyes of a weed head
Ya'll peep my led then hide like Easter eggs
I ride 'till the beef is dead
Caskets dropped
Your soul go further up than astronauts
I talk it and live it
Ya'll weak dudes should offer forgiveness
Cause frontin' like you ill gets
Yourself torchered by killers
In Newyork I'm the realest
Predicted by fortune tellers
Sick with the talkin' methods aK's, Berettas
My whole team is Steelers like Jerome Bettis
Ramming niggers' like Saint Louis
We're dough-getters'
And ya'll niggas is losers
Nothin' fuckin' with us
Nothin' but Bravehearts gon' hustle wit' us
Ugh!

When ya'll niggas fall
And start makin' 800 collect call
Commercials like Arsenio Hall
I'm on Times Square on New Years
With Dick Clark dropping the ball
With Kool and the Gang, doin' my thing
Princess cut chains
I bend bitches like bike frames
My tight game will make Hilary
Leave Bill quick as lightning
I'll have her wearin' tight jeans
Givin' nice brains in a white Range
Pullin' up to club life
Turned her to a thug life dame
I'm saying, you're rolling with Nastradamus
We flowin' to St thomas
Jewelry box full of stones so
I can change diamonds
Matchin' masterpieces on black sandy beaches
Even the paparazzi tries to peep us
Disguised with dark shades and fake beards
A lucky photographer noticed Tyra Banks here
But I showed the tabloids bogus passports
I told 'em back off before
I flip like Castor Troy

Live from the Bridge
Cliques stay high from the iz'
Wear the most popular shit
Niggas knockin' my shit
Denali's, fat designed rims, 2000 S Benz
Watchin' ESPN with two dime lesbians
I hit it of course, I did it to floss
The last Don, doin' hit's like Pepe and Cross
Esco, cash long, niggas think I'm Blacula
Cause I'm in a castle with
A bitch cold waxin' her
I leave my teeth marks in hoes
Scoop 'em like a spatula
Pass 'em to my peoples and
Party like a Bachelor
'till I meet a gangsta bitch
Give her banks to hit
In return all she wants to
Do is drink the dick fuck street clothes
We thug it out in Tuxedos
Stomp niggas with hard bottoms in casinos
A Hundred Bravehearts vest' up, nigga reload
We keep low, Hundred Thousand bank ceelo