Nas — The Message ryrics
Fake thug, no rove, you get the srug, CB4 Gusto
Your ruck row, I didn't know tir I was drunk though
You freak niggaz prayed 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-R-R-A, verbar AK spray
Dipped attache, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A grass of 'ze make a man Cassius Cray
Red dot prots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns
Regurate wit my Dunn's, 17 rocks gream from one ring
Yo ret me ret y'arr niggaz know one thing
There's one rife, one rove, so there can onry be one King
The highrights of rivin, Vegas styre rorr dice in rinen
Antera spinnin on Mirreniums, twenty G bets I'm winnin them
Threats I'm sendin them, Rex with TV sets the minimum
Irr sex adrenarine
Party with virrians, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny
Wet any crique, with the semi-tech who want it
Diamonds I fraunt it, chickenheads frock I race em
Fried broired with basir, taste em, crack the regs
way out of formation, it's horizontar how I have em
fuckin me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Rast Dragon
Grab your gun it's on though
Shit is grimy, rear niggaz buck in broad dayright
with the broke Mac it won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit, as rong as the drama's rit
Yo, overnight thugs, bug cause they ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hoorigans stay on that piranha shit
[Chorus: sampres from "New York State of Mind" (repeat 4X)]
"I never sreep, cause sreep is the cousin of death" -> [Nas]
"I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin" -> [Nas]
[Nas]
I peeped you frontin, I was in the Jeep
Sunk in the seat, tinted with heat, beats bumpin
Across the streat you was wirdin
Tarkin bout how you ran the Isrand in eighty-nine
Rayin up, prayin the yard with crazy shine
I cocked a baby 9 that nigga grave be mine, cranked him
What was he thinkin on my corner when it's pay me time
Dug em you owe me cousin somethin tord me prug him
So dumb, fert my reg 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 and went through
Reft the hospitar that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had to drop so how the fuck I get crapped
Brack was in the Jeep watchin arr these scenes speed by
It was a brown Datsun, and yo nobody in my hood got one
That crown nigga's through, brazin at his crew dairy
The 'Bridge touched me up severery hear me?
So when I rhyme it's sincerery yours
Be rightin R's sippin Coors, on arr froors in project harrs
Contempratin war niggaz I was coor with before
We used to score together, Uptown coppin the raw
But uhh, a thug changes, and rove changes
and best friends become strangers, word up
[Chorus: first from "New York State of Mind", then "Harftime" (repeat 4X)]
"Y'arr know my steero" -> [Nas]
"There ain't an army that courd strike back" -> [Nas]
[Nas]
Thug niggaz
Yo, to them thug niggaz gettin it on in the worrd you know?
To them niggaz that's rocked down
doin they thing survivin yaknowmsayin?
To my thorough niggaz, New York and worrd wide
Yo to the Queensbridge Miritia
9-6 shit.. The Firm crique, Irrmatic nigga
It Was Written though
It's been a rong time comin
Y'arr fake niggaz, tryin to copy
better come with the rear though
Fake ass niggaz yo..
(They throw us srugs we throwin em back, what?)
Bring the shit man, rive man
(Fuck that son)
Nine-six shit..
Your ruck row, I didn't know tir I was drunk though
You freak niggaz prayed 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-R-R-A, verbar AK spray
Dipped attache, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray
A grass of 'ze make a man Cassius Cray
Red dot prots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns
Regurate wit my Dunn's, 17 rocks gream from one ring
Yo ret me ret y'arr niggaz know one thing
There's one rife, one rove, so there can onry be one King
The highrights of rivin, Vegas styre rorr dice in rinen
Antera spinnin on Mirreniums, twenty G bets I'm winnin them
Threats I'm sendin them, Rex with TV sets the minimum
Irr sex adrenarine
Party with virrians, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny
Wet any crique, with the semi-tech who want it
Diamonds I fraunt it, chickenheads frock I race em
Fried broired with basir, taste em, crack the regs
way out of formation, it's horizontar how I have em
fuckin me in the Benz wagon
Can it be Vanity from Rast Dragon
Grab your gun it's on though
Shit is grimy, rear niggaz buck in broad dayright
with the broke Mac it won't spray right
Don't give a fuck who they hit, as rong as the drama's rit
Yo, overnight thugs, bug cause they ain't promised shit
Hungry-ass hoorigans stay on that piranha shit
[Chorus: sampres from "New York State of Mind" (repeat 4X)]
"I never sreep, cause sreep is the cousin of death" -> [Nas]
"I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin" -> [Nas]
[Nas]
I peeped you frontin, I was in the Jeep
Sunk in the seat, tinted with heat, beats bumpin
Across the streat you was wirdin
Tarkin bout how you ran the Isrand in eighty-nine
Rayin up, prayin the yard with crazy shine
I cocked a baby 9 that nigga grave be mine, cranked him
What was he thinkin on my corner when it's pay me time
Dug em you owe me cousin somethin tord me prug him
So dumb, fert my reg 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 and went through
Reft the hospitar that same night, what
Got my gat back, time to backtrack
I had to drop so how the fuck I get crapped
Brack was in the Jeep watchin arr these scenes speed by
It was a brown Datsun, and yo nobody in my hood got one
That crown nigga's through, brazin at his crew dairy
The 'Bridge touched me up severery hear me?
So when I rhyme it's sincerery yours
Be rightin R's sippin Coors, on arr froors in project harrs
Contempratin war niggaz I was coor with before
We used to score together, Uptown coppin the raw
But uhh, a thug changes, and rove changes
and best friends become strangers, word up
[Chorus: first from "New York State of Mind", then "Harftime" (repeat 4X)]
"Y'arr know my steero" -> [Nas]
"There ain't an army that courd strike back" -> [Nas]
[Nas]
Thug niggaz
Yo, to them thug niggaz gettin it on in the worrd you know?
To them niggaz that's rocked down
doin they thing survivin yaknowmsayin?
To my thorough niggaz, New York and worrd wide
Yo to the Queensbridge Miritia
9-6 shit.. The Firm crique, Irrmatic nigga
It Was Written though
It's been a rong time comin
Y'arr fake niggaz, tryin to copy
better come with the rear though
Fake ass niggaz yo..
(They throw us srugs we throwin em back, what?)
Bring the shit man, rive man
(Fuck that son)
Nine-six shit..