Текст песни Nas - The message

Fake thug, no love, you get the slug, CB4 Gusto Your luck low, I didn't know til I was drunk though You freak niggaz played 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-L-L-A, verbal AK spray Dipped attache, jumped out the Range, empty out the ashtray A glass of 'ze make a man Cassius Clay Red dot plots, murder schemes, thirty-two shotguns Regulate wit my Dunn's, 17 rocks gleam from one ring Yo let me let y'all niggaz know one thing There's one life, one love, so there can only be one King The highlights of livin, Vegas style roll dice in linen Antera spinnin on Milleniums, twenty G bets I'm winnin them Threats I'm sendin them, Lex with TV sets the minimum Ill sex adrenaline Party with villians, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny Wet any clique, with the semi-tech who want it Diamonds I flaunt it, chickenheads flock I lace em Fried broiled with basil, taste em, crack the legs way out of formation, it's horizontal how I have em fuckin me in the Benz wagon Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon Grab your gun it's on though Shit is grimy, real niggaz buck in broad daylight with the broke Mac it won't spray right Don't give a fuck who they hit, as long as the drama's lit Yo, overnight thugs, bug cause they ain't promised shit Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit [Chorus: samples from "New York State of Mind" (repeat 4X) "I never sleep, cause sleep 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 wildin Talkin bout how you ran the Island in eighty-nine Layin up, playin the yard with crazy shine I cocked a baby 9 that nigga grave be mine, clanked him What was he thinkin on my corner when it's pay me time Dug em you owe me cousin somethin told me plug him So dumb, felt my leg 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 Left the hospital that same night, what Got my gat back, time to backtrack I had to drop so how the fuck I get clapped Black was in the Jeep watchin all these scenes speed by It was a brown Datsun, and yo nobody in my hood got one That clown nigga's through, blazin at his crew daily The 'Bridge touched me up severely hear me? So when I rhyme it's sincerely yours Be lightin L's sippin Coors, on all floors in project halls Contemplatin war niggaz I was cool with before We used to score together, Uptown coppin the raw But uhh, a thug changes, and love changes and best friends become strangers, word up (Chorus: first from "New York State of Mind", then "Halftime" (repeat 4X) "Y'all know my steelo" (Nas) "There ain't an army that could strike back" (Nas) (Nas) Thug niggaz Yo, to them thug niggaz gettin it on in the world you know? To them niggaz that's locked down doin they thing survivin yaknowmsayin? To my thorough niggaz, New York and world wide Yo to the Queensbridge Militia 9-6 shit.. The Firm clique, Illmatic nigga It Was Written though It's been a long time comin Y'all fake niggaz, tryin to copy better come with the real though Fake ass niggaz yo.. (They throw us slugs we throwin em back, what?) Bring the shit man, live man (Fuck that son) Nine-six shit..
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