متن آهنگ
How should I start this? How should I begin, to sin? Grab the microphone and my rhymes'll win Wheel of Fortune, spin, around Check it out, I'm not a rap clown Get smacked down by the fuckin' four pound In your dome Hit you with the nick plate chrome Queensbridge, thats my motherfuckin' home Off the top of my head, yo, I'm a blunt head Police... Police want a nigga dead But, I'm not going out like that black I kick the actual facts in so low Cold as a Polar Bear, I swear, word to Will But I'mma chill, rhymes'll kill Niggas know the style when I freak the profile Asiatic Child, yo Grand Wizard on the side of me Yo, Get on the mic and bless the M-I-C But I'mma pass it off to my man Six-Nine Kick it one time Hey, Yo, Six-Nine a true to life nigga Yo, my style is iller, iller than Halle Berry's figure Niggas don't fuck with the Six-Niner Shorty watch your mouth, I smack you back in your vagina Heres to reaper crack and sunrise tequila Kill the margarita heres a 50 get some more cheaper The ghetto trooper, so sparred up the booth buddha My thoughts stay nasty like the underground sewage To be the man you gotta beat the man It ain't nothing, so start come here but nothin' mark my timberlands You want static? Lets have it knuckles will flow like the Atlantic But sink like the Titanic Since birth I was thinking too fast, my first beef was with the doctor When he smacked me on the ass The trigger man, I'm crazy like Sam My skills so Ill like a with a white chick with a suntan One for the money Two for pussy and foreign cars Three for Alize, niggas deceased or behind bars I rap divine, God, check the prognosis: is it real or showbiz? My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja Here's my basis, my razor embraces, many faces Your telephone blowing, black stitches or fat shoelaces Peoples are petro, dramatic automatic .44 I let blow And back down po-po when I'm vexed so My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank I see dark streets, hustling brothers who keep the same rank Pumping for something, some'll prosper, some fail Judges hanging niggas, uncorrect bails for direct sales My intellect prevails from a hanging cross with nails I reinforce the frail, with lyrics that's real Word to Christ, a disciple on streets, trifle on beats But, Chill! Place the microphone and say peace So Sudan, take the microphone in your hand Kick the flim flam Queensbridge, when will the drama ever cease? I like to say peace Willie and rest in peace A cool brother who's all about justice I still can't understand how he left us Well... he's gone and life goes on you know We had a crew but one by one we go Memories of his face that was full of joy Rock-a Rock-a bye Rock-a bye homeboy Reminiscing with the brothers standing on the block Never talk a lot, never was a big shot It's so hard to say goodbye a sad song And damn I can't believe my man's gone Digging back in the days when we used to laugh Now its a memory that's haunted from the past Poor Willy its a shame how the ghetto got him And word is bond - I wanna cry when I think about him Three bullets to his back on his own block Not a way to go, killed by the buckshot Queensbridge wake and up and smell the air And stop killin' like a villain, like you don't care Remember Willie and times we had with joy Rock-a Rock-a bye Rock-a bye homeboy Rock-a Rock-a bye Rock-a bye homeboy Rock-a Rock-a bye My skills are ill like the prez with a plan My brothers run from Sudan then the Ku-Klux-Klan Like a kamikaze, Sadaam Hussein then won Feel the buns of a nun, put tricks for funds and chill I slow a verse so you can understand I kill rappers more freaky than a motherfuckin' a Mic Man And when it comes to a battle I stand out tall like the man who played the man on The White Shadow To my man Jungle Dwelling in the jungle Where must we go? Where must we wander Deep out the skies come the MC Nas Not to surprise, but to civilize Yo, the dumb men wandering around the streets Listenin' to a nigga rappin' on fly beats I just kicked a mad philly style Get bucked wild cause you know my style I could run a word, kick it to a herb Make 'em turn into a rich man Increase the plan, the master plan Yo, I'm buggin' out cause the weed got me buggin' Plus the Guinness Stout Grand Wizard yo, you my physical Why don't you mic the mic, make the microphone miserable It's cuisine, the G the Wiz (?) You know our culture gone get Biz I got my man Nasty on the side of me My man Six-Nine, you know we're not hotter G I am the man that'll break it down I'll break all down cuz I got the sound I got Queensbridge in the back of me The Tec and everything, I'm coming strapped G Money and murder, money and murder The sick shit you heard comin' from my motherfuckin' my swerve The words are poetic, I sound energetic When I'm blunted or Moet'd My microphone's upsetted cause I'm crazy Now you know, never lazy Yo, I'm gonna get all the cash I can Don't give a fuck if I gotta shoot a policeman Pluckin' a church and snatch a fuckin'... nah can't be flippin' like that Cause you niggas try to jock the style But I left that shit to get the new shit, float like the now Now you can't catch up G Cause I got the new styles on the M-I-C I keep gettin' newer, can't step to her Nigga from the Bridge, so you keep that shit And I'mma flip the script next year And my real name is Nasir Can't spell it cause I say it too clear The alphabets are not enough words or letters to use When it comes to mics I bruise I just go, with the magical mystic flow Niggas don't know, that's word to the man Bo I get Illmatic with the style that's insane Comin' outta fuckin' murderous brain Grand Wizard, please take this Mic from me Before I bug the fuck out and end up D-E-A-D
هنرمندان
آلبوم
Illmatic XX