I don’t respect killers, I respect O.G. knowledge,
Codes of the streets got new rules, but no guidance.
Lessons, detrimental to a young disciple;
Folks, take care of your brothers, niggas do as I do.
Keep your enemies close, where they can see you.
It’s not your enemy who get you, it’s always your own people.
The Chinamen built the railroad, the Indians saved the Pilgrim,
And in return, the Pilgrim killed ‘em.
They call it it Thanksgiving, I call your holiday ‘hell-day.’
I’m a firm believer that we all meet up in eternity,
Just hope the Big Man show me some courtesy
Life’s a bitch, but God forbid the bitch divorce me…
Keepin’ this effervescent street ghetto essence inside us
Cause it provides us with the proper insight to guide us
On the reals, all these crab niggaz know the deal,
When we start the revolution, all they’ll probably do is squeal.
Mindless violence, well let me try to paint it.
Here’s the 5 steps in hopes to explain it:
1, It’s me and my Nation against the World
2, Then me and my Clan against the Nation
3, Then me and my Fam against the Clan
4, Then me and my Brother, we no hesitation
Go against the Fam until they cave in
5, Now who’s left in this deadly equation?
That’s right, it’s me against my Brother
Then we point a Kalashnikov
And kill one another.
They say I’m so low key, I’m socially awkward,
Only those that really know me are the ones that I talk with.
They smile in the light, hate in the dark,
You call it beef, to me it’s just a fuckin’ walk in the park.
– Nas, “I Do It for Hip-Hop,” from Ludacris’ Theater of the Mind, 2008
The passion of Pac, the depth of Nas, circa 9-3,
Mix the mind of Brad Jordan and Chuck D and find me.
I spit with the diction of Malcolm or say a Bun B,
Prevail through Hell, so Satan get ye behind me.
‘Cause in my physical I can express through song,
Delete stress like Motrin, then extend strong.
I drink Moet with Medusa, give her shotguns in hell
From the spliff that I lift and inhale…it ain’t hard to tell.
Deep like The Shining, sparkle like a diamond,
Sneak a Uzi on the Island in my army jacket lining.
Hit the Earth like a comet…invasion,
Nas is like the Afrocentric Asian: half-man, half-amazing.
It ain’t hard to tell, I excel then prevail,
The mic is contacted, I attract clientele.
My mic check is life or death, breathing a sniper’s breath,
I exhale the yellow smoke of buddha through righteous steps.
The way mothers feel for they sons, how fathers feel for they daughters;
When he date, he straight, chip off his own papa.
When she date, we wait behind the door with the sawed off,
Cause we think no one is good enough for our daughters.
Fear is weakness, learn from what experience teaches.
Beware of leeches, the vampires, my secrets…
Never follow, cause most niggas is straight up cowards.
Take care of my body’s the temple, my mind is the power.
A thug changes, and love changes,
And best friends become strangers.
I never sleep, ‘cause sleep is the cousin of death.
You lose money chasing women;
Never lose women chasing money.
What you base your happiness around?
Material, women, and large paper?
That means you inferior, not major.
Everything will eventually come to an end,
So try to savor the moment, cause time flies, don’t it?
The beauty of life, you gotta make it last for the better,
Cause nothin’ lasts forever.
I know you think my life is good ‘cause my diamond piece,
But my life been good since I started finding peace.
Inhale deep like the words of my breath,
I never sleep, cause sleep is the cousin of death.
…Shorty’s laugh was cold-blooded as he spoke so foul,
Only twelve tryin to tell me that he liked my style.
Then I rose, wiping the blunt’s ash from my clothes,
Then froze, only to blow the herb smoke through my nose.
Props is a true thug’s wife.
It’s like a cycle: niggas come home, some’ll go in,
Do a bullet, come back, do the same shit again.
From the womb to the tomb, presume the unpredictable,
Guns salute life, rapidly, that’s the ritual.
Dear Mama, don’t cry, your baby boy’s doin’ good,
Tell the homies I’m in heaven, and they ain’t got hoods.
Seen a show with Marvin Gaye last night, it had me shook,
Drippin’ peppermint Schnapps, with Jackie Wilson, and Sam Cooke…
We were beginners in the hood as 5 Percenters,
But somethin’ must’ve got in us, cause all of us turned to sinners.
Some seek fame cause they need validation,
Some say hating is confused admiration.
Hood forever, I just act like I’m civilized.
Really what’s in my mind is organizing a billion Black motherfuckers
To take over JP Morgan, Goldman and Sachs
And teach the world facts and give Saudi they oil back.
It’s a thin line between paper and hate,
Friends and snakes, nine millis and thirty-eights,
Hell or the pearly gates…I was destined to come,
Predicted, blame God, He blew breath in my lungs.