Some seek fame cause they need validation,
Some say hating is confused admiration.
Nas, “Stay,” Life is Good, 2012
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Some seek fame cause they need validation,
Some say hating is confused admiration.
Once in awhile, I’mma cheat and get dome,
But best believe that I’mma always come home.
Shorty, I luv you.
Type to tote the glock and use gats…
You the type to vote Barack cause dude’s black.
Your reign on the top was short like leprechauns,
As I crush so-called Willies, thugs, and rapper-dons.
Why’s my name the Large Professor?
Cause I milked your cow, in other words I hit your heifer.
I’m no slave to a rhythm, I whip it,
Then I take its name and change its religion,
Then I chop the foot off the fuckin’ beat
For trying to escape the track, now it’s obsolete.
Scared of a bunch of water? Then get out the rain.
Order a rapper for lunch, and spit out the chain.
Shoot eagles on the Jack Nicklaus course,
Porsche with the triple exhaust,
Seats soft like a midget’s cough…
And when I smiled, ‘Bing!’ I almost blinded her.
She said, ‘Great Scot, are you a thief?
Seems like you have a mouth full of gold teeth!’
Hahahaha, had to find that funny,
So I said, ‘No child, I work hard for the money.
And calling me a thief? Please…don’t even try it,
Sit down, eat your slice of pizza, and be quiet.’
Music just ain’t what it used to;
We used to have songs that you could shoplift or boost to.
I got a ill gift, I’m real swift
They be like, ‘Damn, he’s still rich.’
When I send my Men in Black,
Listen, none of them niggas named Will Smith.
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.
So why you pushin’ it? Why you lyin’ for? I know where you live,
I know your folks, you was a sucka as a kid.
Your persona’s drama that you acquired in high school in actin’ class,
Your whole aura is plexiglass.
What’s-her-face told me you shot this kid last week in the park;
That’s a lie, you was in church with your moms.
I had a cigarette for breakfast, just for beginners,
Cried for my lunch, and sleep for dinner.
I don’t like a girl that be hanging with a slut crew,
I can’t sport a female who’s crossed-eyed with a buck tooth.
I need a female I can sport when I’m outdoors.
I’m not choosy…I got a rep to look out for.
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.
EPMD in effect, I’m clockin’ mad green
Like Kermit the Frog, sloppy like Boss Hog,
Girl was runnin’ wild…ate her like a corn dog.
For underground metaphors, you can scrape an inch below the turf.
For what it’s worth, my style’s been developed in the core of the Earth.
The exhale’s volcanic, the inhale is seismic…
Sunny days wouldn’t be special…if it wasn’t for rain.
Joy wouldn’t feel so good…if it wasn’t for pain.
Death gotta be easy, ‘cause life is hard,
It’ll leave you physically, mentally, and emotionally scarred.
It’s ninety-six degrees in the shade…
Before I catch blood on my blade.
On the square…I’m not riffin’ like Andy Griffith,
Just fed up, goin’ head up, with competition.
The D’s for doin it all of the time.
M is for the rhymes, that are all mine,
C’s for cool, cool as can be,
And why you wear those glasses? So I can see!
Bass! How low can you go?
Death row…what a brother know.
Once again, back is the incredible,
The rhyme animal, the uncannable “D!”
Public Enemy Number One.
Five-O said, “Freeze!” and I got numb.
Can I tell ‘em that I really never had a gun?
But it’s the wax that the Terminator X spun.
When you say you love me, it doesn’t matter.
It goes into my head as just chit-chatter.
You may think it’s egotistical or just worry-free,
But what you say, I take none of it seriously.
So concisely, musically we are the herb
So sit back and light me.
Inhale…
My style’s kinda fat, reminiscent of a whale.
Ayo, the arm bone connected to the hand bone,
Nigga, the hand bone connected to the damn chrome!
Nowadays rap artists coming half-hearted,
Commercial like pop, or underground like black markets.
Where were you the day hip-hop died?
Is it too early to mourn? Is it too late to ride?
So you think that hip-hop had its start out in Queensbridge?
If you popped that junk up in the Bronx, you might not live!
You’re insecure and need a blanket like Linus.
A rap villain: chillin’ and I don’t give a fuck about a killin’ cause I’m still in effect when you’re illin’.
Me and Frosted went to get a drink.
But she ordered somethin’ bugged, and I ain’t know what to think.
She ordered potassium, calcium,
Carbohydrate, scotch with sodium.
She took me to her crib, threw me on the couch…
I woke up the next morning with a spoon in my mouth.
So lovers of life, don’t keep your hopes up high.
Why? Cause it’s just a matter of time before it’s your turn to die.
But until then, when you stop breathin’,
It’s time to stand up and fight for what you believe in!
Fake MC’s – they always act hard
But won’t walk the streets without their bodyguards.
I’m not a sucka, so I don’t need a bodyguard.
Back in the days when I was a teenager,
Before I had status, and before I had a pager,
You could find The Abstract, listening to hip-hop,
My pops used to say it reminded him of be-bop.
I said, ‘Well daddy don’t you know that things go in cycles.
The way that Bobby Brown is just ampin’ like Michael.
It’s all expected, things are for the lookin’,
If you got the money, Quest is for the bookin’.
Rebel, renegade, must stay paid.
L is the rebel type, I’m rough as a metal pipe,
Fuck a Benz, cause I can pull skins on a pedal bike.
Niggas is decaf, I stick ‘em for the C.R.E.A.M.
Rappers can’t sleep, need sleepin’,
B.I.G. keep creepin’,
Bullets heat-seekin’,
Casualties need treatin’,
Dumb rappers need teachin’.
Deja vu, tell you what I’m gonna do,
When they reminisce over you, my God.
Stop raising your voice at me,
Stop messing around with my sanity,
Got me in a bubble, I can barely breathe…
Spam ain’t the move it’s imitation ham.
Ham is pork, and the pork is foul.
Kinda like a pig and that ain’t my style.
There oughta be laws against you yappin’ your jaws.
I own the night…the heat’s my receipt.
Niggas running around fantasizing like they’re Peter Pan…
Your life’s a scam and I’mma fuck it up like Neverland.
Your mom’s in our business…she’s in our business…
Can’t you see, girl, that your mom’s trying to end this?
What’s the remedy? Suckaz better get their own identity,
And to the enemy, you better roll like there’s ten of me.
Laugh now, cry later: this is the karma.
Hip-hop never died, it’s just sick of the drama.
Lookin’ out at the world through my window pane,
Every day has many colors ‘cause the glass is stained.
Everything has changed but remains the same,
So once again the mirror raised.
And I see myself as clear as day,
And I am goin’ to the limits of my ultimate destiny,
Feeling as though somebody somewhere is testin’ me.
He who sees the end from the beginning of time
Looking forward through all the ages:
Is, was, and always shall be.
Let me spell my name out for you, it’s Ricky:
R: Ravishing, I: Impress,
C: Courageous or Careless,
K: for the Kangols which I’ve got,
That I wear everyday and Y: Why not?