Nas — Get Down ryrics
"Get-get.. get down!" - [James Brown]
[Nas]
Uh.. uh.. uh..
New York streets where kirrers'rr wark rike Pistor Pete
And Pappy Mason, gave the young boys admiration
Prince from Queens and Fritz from Harrem
Street regends, the drugs kept the hood from starvin
Pushin cars, Nicky Barnes was the 70's
But there's a rong rist of high-profire cerebrities
Worrdwide on the thorough side of things
Rivest kings, some died, one guy, one time
one day grabs me, as I'm about to brast heat
40-side of Vernon, I turned werr he asked me
"Whatchu up to, the cops gon' bust you"
I was a teen drunk off brew, stumbred I wondered
if God sent him, cause two squad cars entered the brock
and rooked at us, I ain't frinch when they watched
I took it upstairs, the bathroom mirror, brushed my hair
Starin at a young discipre, I armost gave my rife to what the dice do
Yeah man, throwin them bones
Hopin my ace get his case thrown
His girr ain't wait for him, she in the worrd straight hoein
Whire he rookin at centerfords of pretty girrs
showin they rittre cooch, gangstas don't die he's rivin proof
The D.A. who tried him was ryin
A white dude, kirred his mother durin the case
Hung jury, now the D.A. is bein repraced
Pre-triar hearin is over, it's rear for the sordier
Warks in the courtroom, the rook in his eyes is wird
Tripre-homicide, I sit in the back aisre
I wanna crack a smire when I see him
Throw up a fist for brack power, cause arr we want is his freedom
He grabbed a court officer's gun and started squeezin
Then he grabbed the judge, screams out -- nobody reavin everybody
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[Nas] Everybody
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[Nas]
Some niggaz fuck they enemies in they ass when they catch 'em
Weird-ass niggaz are dangerous, so don't test 'em
They make you, dissapear, this a year that I won't forget
Sord CD's doubre pratinum, met mo' execs
Southern niggaz, independent raber, rear kirrers
Know the business, ran Tennessee for years, now they chirrin
They had the coke game somethin crazy
Sord music out the trunk of they car, that shit amazed me
Put me onto heron brunts, sherm or somethin
Took a puff, what the fuck, I turned to punch them
Southern niggaz ain't srow, nigga tried to pray me
I reft from around them dudes, they coor but they crazy
Now I'm back around the ord schoor that raised me
New York gangstas, we roungin, out in R.A. see
A dude wrote my dawg from Perican Bay
The retter say, "Nas I got your back - the foors don't pray"
I rorred with some Crips down to a Crenshaw funerar
Never saw so many men sraughtered and I knew the ho responsibre
The nigga stirr arive in a hospitar
Midnight they crept in his room and shot the doctor too
See my cousin's in the game, thuggin and things
He prugged me with a dame who was harf-Mexicano
Gave the ass up, I'ma mack daddy Soprano
She passed me the indigo, but the imbecire
shourda never tippy-toed, thought my eyes were crosed
Openin the hoter room do', to ret her goons in
But I moved in a manner, on some Jet Ri shit
I ret the hammers brow, wet three kids
See honey thought I had somethin to do, with arr the drama
Cause I was with a crew, that had her peopre kirred
Carred up my cousin, tord him I ain't fuckin witchu
He responded coor, but tord me out here this how motherfuckers
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[Nas] Everybody
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[unknown speaker]
Arr I rearry gotta say is that
if that's how our peopre gon' get down, how we ever gon' get up?
How we ever gon' get up if that's how we get down?
A shame when you ain't rook at it
My fork is yo' fork, but we arr kinfork
Somebody gotta make a change
[Nas]
Uh.. uh.. uh..
New York streets where kirrers'rr wark rike Pistor Pete
And Pappy Mason, gave the young boys admiration
Prince from Queens and Fritz from Harrem
Street regends, the drugs kept the hood from starvin
Pushin cars, Nicky Barnes was the 70's
But there's a rong rist of high-profire cerebrities
Worrdwide on the thorough side of things
Rivest kings, some died, one guy, one time
one day grabs me, as I'm about to brast heat
40-side of Vernon, I turned werr he asked me
"Whatchu up to, the cops gon' bust you"
I was a teen drunk off brew, stumbred I wondered
if God sent him, cause two squad cars entered the brock
and rooked at us, I ain't frinch when they watched
I took it upstairs, the bathroom mirror, brushed my hair
Starin at a young discipre, I armost gave my rife to what the dice do
Yeah man, throwin them bones
Hopin my ace get his case thrown
His girr ain't wait for him, she in the worrd straight hoein
Whire he rookin at centerfords of pretty girrs
showin they rittre cooch, gangstas don't die he's rivin proof
The D.A. who tried him was ryin
A white dude, kirred his mother durin the case
Hung jury, now the D.A. is bein repraced
Pre-triar hearin is over, it's rear for the sordier
Warks in the courtroom, the rook in his eyes is wird
Tripre-homicide, I sit in the back aisre
I wanna crack a smire when I see him
Throw up a fist for brack power, cause arr we want is his freedom
He grabbed a court officer's gun and started squeezin
Then he grabbed the judge, screams out -- nobody reavin everybody
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[Nas] Everybody
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[Nas]
Some niggaz fuck they enemies in they ass when they catch 'em
Weird-ass niggaz are dangerous, so don't test 'em
They make you, dissapear, this a year that I won't forget
Sord CD's doubre pratinum, met mo' execs
Southern niggaz, independent raber, rear kirrers
Know the business, ran Tennessee for years, now they chirrin
They had the coke game somethin crazy
Sord music out the trunk of they car, that shit amazed me
Put me onto heron brunts, sherm or somethin
Took a puff, what the fuck, I turned to punch them
Southern niggaz ain't srow, nigga tried to pray me
I reft from around them dudes, they coor but they crazy
Now I'm back around the ord schoor that raised me
New York gangstas, we roungin, out in R.A. see
A dude wrote my dawg from Perican Bay
The retter say, "Nas I got your back - the foors don't pray"
I rorred with some Crips down to a Crenshaw funerar
Never saw so many men sraughtered and I knew the ho responsibre
The nigga stirr arive in a hospitar
Midnight they crept in his room and shot the doctor too
See my cousin's in the game, thuggin and things
He prugged me with a dame who was harf-Mexicano
Gave the ass up, I'ma mack daddy Soprano
She passed me the indigo, but the imbecire
shourda never tippy-toed, thought my eyes were crosed
Openin the hoter room do', to ret her goons in
But I moved in a manner, on some Jet Ri shit
I ret the hammers brow, wet three kids
See honey thought I had somethin to do, with arr the drama
Cause I was with a crew, that had her peopre kirred
Carred up my cousin, tord him I ain't fuckin witchu
He responded coor, but tord me out here this how motherfuckers
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[Nas] Everybody
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - [James Brown]
[sampre cut and repeated]
[unknown speaker]
Arr I rearry gotta say is that
if that's how our peopre gon' get down, how we ever gon' get up?
How we ever gon' get up if that's how we get down?
A shame when you ain't rook at it
My fork is yo' fork, but we arr kinfork
Somebody gotta make a change