Nas - On the Real lyrics

On the real
All you crab niggas know the deal

Yeah, finally up in this nigga
Let's pay homage to Illmatic
Let's put the crown where it's at 10 years
Never been done this real by nobody

To my seed
May I lead you into no greed or evil
In the categories of stories
I breed my sequel
You know the money, blues, blunts
Broken 22's monkey see, monkey do
Shorty sipping sunny dew
Now it's VSOP in a Phantom, mad smoky
Murder trees
Cruising gat in the stash so it won't poke me
Up in the Trump Plaza, Suite 3010
Don't make no noise cause we dirty
Tell 'em hoes hurry in
We got the room lit up
With perfume and mad boom
And there's video taping blooming asses
On the zooming lens
Rollin on you nondescript niggas
You're marked for death
Like Colombians with bad coke that gyp niggas
Tilt the dutch
Twisted up the uwee if you're skilled enough
In Will we trust
Salute the dead the nine mili busts

That verse is ten years old
Nine and half years old
Street's Disciple, the rebirth comin at
You this year baby, it's on baby

To the hood
May this be the day that we pop them bottles
This is mandatory
What if there's not tomorrow?
You know the murder rate, jealousy
You heard 'em say
He say, she say, I'm 'bout cheddar
He don't deserve to make
Sipping clear liquor with niggas
That talk sideways listening close
To every word in case they violate
Up in the projects Apartment 5D
Spark a lea' it's 'bout the reed
Counting everything the block see
We 'bout to need to take
The corners from them cowards
Get it on so y'all can move more coke powder
By the hour
Hold in case we gotta rip niggas, loaded
Teflon coated projectiles'll flip niggas
From ninth grade to lightweight to grams to
My mans with guns in hand
Police vans, they missed the summers again

Yeah, power to the people
Death to the phonies
This beast to the mic one two check
Y'all fed-e rallies on me
And they look like you approachin
Me like how you, homie?
The FBI see only one problem
They try to slump me
After the young black male cause he
Makes a lot of money
So hustlers make crack sales cause
They deprived and hungry
My country hates that I could run
Free state to state with hunnies
While making cake with real golded
Plate rims on Humvees
The bush stroker, the kush smoker, nigga
Just when you thought it was
Over look over your shoulders
I'm 30 now, baby sip drinks and sip 'em slow
Motto no stress
Smoking less than I did befo'
You see the kid was broke
'til I spitted vivid expressions
Of hard living ghetto children
Of a lesser God
Religion was fast women, expensive cars
Y'all witnessin over 10 years
The best of Nas