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Artist: Nas |
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Album: I Am |
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Song: Nas is Like |
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("Nas is . . ." -Nas) 7x |
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Freedom or jail, clips inserted, a baby's bein born |
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Same time my man is murdered, the beginning and end |
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As far as rap go, it's only natural, I explain |
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My plateau, and also, what defines my name |
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First it was Nasty, but times have changed |
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Ask me now, I'm the artist, but hardcore, my science for pain |
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I spent time in the game, kept my mind on fame |
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Saw fiends shoot up, and do lines of cocaine |
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Saw my close friends shot, flatline am I sane? |
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That depends, carry Mac-10's to practice my aim |
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On rooftops, tape cd covers to trees |
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Line the barrel up with your weak picture then squeeze |
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Street scriptures for lost souls, in the crossroads |
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To the corner thugs hustlin for cars that cost dough |
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To the big dogs livin large, takin it light |
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Pushin big toys, gettin nice, enjoyin your life |
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is what you make it, suicide, few try to take it |
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Belt tied around they neck in jail cells naked |
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Heaven and hell, rap legend, presence is felt |
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And of course N - A - S are the letters that spell . . . |
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NAS, NAS |
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Chorus: scratching by DJ Premier (2X) |
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"Nas is like life or death.. I'm a rebel.. " |
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"My poetry's deep, I never fell.." |
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"Nas is like.. half man half amazing.." |
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"No doubt.." |
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"Nas is like.." Earth Wind & Fire, rims and tires |
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Bulletproof glass, inside is the realest driver |
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Planets in orbit, line em up with the stars |
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Tarot cards, you can see the pharaoh Nas |
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"Nas is like.." Iron Mike, messiah type |
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Before the Christ, after the death |
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The last one left, let my cash invest in stock |
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Came a along way from blastin, techs on blocks |
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Went from Seiko to Rolex, ownin acres |
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From the projects with no chips, to large cake dough |
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Dimes, givin fellatio, siete zeros |
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Bet my nine spit for the pesos |
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But what's it all worth, can't take it when you under this Earth |
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Rich men died and tried, but none of it worked |
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They just rob your grave, I'd rather be alive and paid |
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Before my number's called, history's made |
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Some'll fall, but I rise, thug or die |
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Makin choices, that determine my future under the sky |
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To rob steal or kill, I'm wondering why |
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It's a dirty game, is any man worthy of fame? |
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Much to success to ya, even if you wish me the opposite |
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Sooner or later we'll all see who the prophet is |
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Chorus |
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"Nas is like.." Sex to a nympho, but nothin sweet |
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I'm like beef, bustin heat through your windows |
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I'm like a street sweeper, greenleaf reaper |
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Like Greeks in Egypt, learnin somethin deep from they teachers |
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I'm like crime, like your nine, your man you would die for |
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Always got you, I'm like Pop Duke you would cry for |
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I'm like a whole lot of loot, I'm like crisp money |
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Corporate accounts from a rich company |
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I'm like ecstasy for ladies, I'm like all races |
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combined in one man; like the '99 summer jam |
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Bulletproof Hummer man |
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I'm like being locked down around new faces, and none of em fam' |
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I'm the feelin of a millionaire spendin a hundred grand |
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I'm a poor man's dream, a thug poet |
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Live it, and I write down and I watch it blow up |
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Y'all know what I'm like, y'all play it your system every night |
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Now.. |
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Chorus |
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