Word
Got some Remy Martin, some good-ass cigars
Check it out
Ayo, late night, candlelight, fiend wit’ diesel in his needle
Queensbridge leader, no equal,
I come from the Wheel of Ezekiel
To pop thousand-dollar bottles of scotch,
smoke purp, and heal the people
Any rebuttal to what I utter get box-cuttered
Count how many bad honeys I slut, it’s a high number
Name a n-gga under the same sky that I’m under
Who gets money, remain fly, yeah, I wonder
Eyes flutter as love when Nas pops up
Stars get starstruck, panties start drippin’
The ways of Carlito, blaze, torpedo cigars
Drop moves, drop clothes
Louis the XIII freaks, women nice size
I ride like Porsches, thick, brown and gorgeous
It ain’t my fault, semiautomatic weapons
I brought the world “Crazy,” I’m rich and I’m girl-crazy
Dick ‘em, convince ‘em all to praise me
They ideology is confusion, I lose ‘em
Fellates me, who hate me My gun off safety
Since a Tunnel escape key, my jewelry in HD
Silent rage, pristine in my vintage shades
I’m not in the winters of my life or the beginner stage,
I am the dragon
Maserati, pumpin’ Biggie, the great legend
Blastin’, I’m after the actress who played Faith Evans
My little Jackie Onassis, dig?
I’m so high, I never land like Mike Jackson’s crib
Best on .45, still crack ya rib sacrilege
When lids talk trash about the nasty kid
Past nasty now, I’m gross and repulsive
Talk money, is you jokin’
Cash everywhere, in my bank, in the sofa
In the walls, in the cars, in my wallet, in my pocket
On the floors, ceiling, the safe, bitch
I got all you envy, but don’t offend
I’m skinny, but still I’m too big for a Bentley
You are your car, what could represent?
Too Godly to be a Bugatti, you honestly
Must design me somethin’
Tommy Mottonic from Queens had before the ’90s
Drug dealer call, rush to the bar
Move, n-ggas, we don’t give a fuck who you are
Black card heavy like a magnet, in my stitched denims
Pretty women see them them saggin’
Bet a hundred stacks, n-ggas’ll run it back
Just havin’ fun, I ain’t even begun to black
Light another blunt in fact
(Nasty)
Nasty kid
(Nasty)
Yeah
(Nasty)
The kid!
(Nasty)
Nasty kid
For the hustlers, thick as yellow bitches for the suck of it
Got a bunch of n-ggas in prison braggin’,
sayin’ “It was Nas I used to hustle wit’”
I display fashions while my lungs engage hashes,
guns on my waist past his
Since I’m cakin’ up, put funds in my safe, laughin’
And joining the n-ggas passin’ you n-ggas was straight assin’
Excuse the vulgarity, I’m still not fully adjusted
Or used to the new fans hearin’ me spit rapidly
I never see the whips n-ggas be claimin’ they drivin’
I guess entertainment means blatantly lyin’
Fake it ’til you make it, I’ve driven those toys
Been in the wars, in the streets, cops kickin’ in doors
For my deen n-ggas, your flow cheap as limousine liquor
I’m no fake rap CD listener, sit back and roll a mean swisher
For my Gs, tell these clowns make room for the king, n-gga