Ecouter ce morceau
Titre : Affirmative Action [Ajouter ce morceau à mon blog]
Album : IT WAS WRITTEN
Année : 2008
Paroles :
[Intro: AZ]

This is what... this what they want huh?
This is what it's all about..
What? Time to take Affirmative Action son
They just don't understand, youknowImean?
Niggaz comin sideways thinkin stuff is sweet man
Yknahmean?
Niggaz don't understand the four devils:
Lust.. Envy.. Hate.. Jealousy
Wicked niggaz man

[AZ the Visualiza]
Yo, sit back relax catchin contacts, sip your cog-nac
And let's all wash this money through this laundry mat
Sneak attack, a new cat sit back, worth top dollar
In fact, touch mines, and I'll react like a Rottweiler
Who pull the late, we play for high stakes at gunpoint
Catch em and break, undress em tie em with tape, no escape
The Corleone, fettucini Capone
Roam in your own zone or get kidnapped and clapped in your dome
We got it sewn, The Firm art of war is unknown
Lower your tone, face it, homicide cases get blown
Aristocrats, politickin daily with diplomats
See me I'm an official mack, Lex Coupe triple black

[Cormega]
Criminal thoughts in the blue Porsche, my destiny's to be the new boss
That nigga Paulie gotta die - he too soft
That nigga's dead on, a key of her-oin, they found his head on
the couch with his dick in his mouth, I put the hit out
Yo, the smoothest killer since Bugsy, bitches love me
And Queens where my drugs be, I wear Guess jeans and rugbies
Yo my people from Medina they will see you
when you re-up on your heater all your cream go betweeen us
Real shit, my Desert Eagle got a ill grip
I chill with, niggaz that hit Dominican spots and steal bricks
My red beam, made a dread scream, and sprayed a Fed team
Corleone be turnin niggaz to fiends
U-Conn's and ninja black Lexus, 'Mega the pretty boy
with mafia connections it's The Firm nigga set it

[Nas]
Yo, my mind is seein through your design like blind fury
I shine jewelry sippin on crushed grapes, we lust papes
and push cakes inside the casket at Just wake
It's sickenin, he just finished biddin upstate
And now the projects, is talkin that somebody gotta die shit
It's logic, as long as it's nobody that's in my clique
My man Smoke, know how to expand coke, and Mr. Coffee
Feds cost me two mill' to get the system off me
"Life's a Bitch," but God-forbid the bitch divorce me
I'll be flooded with ice so hellfire can't scorch me
Cuban cigars meetin Foxy at Demars
Movin cars, your top papi Senor Escobar

[Foxy Brown]
In the black Camaro
Firm deep all my niggaz hail the blackest sparrow
Wallabee's be the apparel
Through the darkest tunnel, I got visions of multimillions
in the biggest bundle, in the Lex pushed by my nigga Jungle
He money bags got Moet, Sean Don
Bundle of sixty-two, they ain't got a clue what we about to do
My whole team we shittin hard like Czar
Sosa, Foxy Brown, Cormega, and Escobar
I keep a fat marquis piece, laced in all the illest snake skin
Armani sweaters Carolina Hebrera
Be The Firm baby, from BK to the 'Bridge
My nigga Wiz, operation Firm Biz, so what the deal is
I keep a phat jew-el, sippin Crist-ies
Sittin on top of fifty grand in the Nautica Van, uhh!
We stay incogni' like all them thug niggaz in Marcy
The Gods, they praise Allah with visions of Gandhi
Bet it on, my whole crew is Don Juan
On Cayman Island with a case of Cristal and Papa Chula spoke
Nigga with them Cubans that snort coke
Raw though, an ounce mixed wit leak that's pure though
Flippin the bigger picture, the bigger nigga with the cheddar
Was mad dripper, he had a fuckin villa in Manilla
We got to flee to Panama, but wait it's half and half
Keys is one and two-fifth, so how we flip
Thirty-two grams raw, chop it in half, get sixteen, double it times three
We got forty-eight, which mean a whole lot of cream
Divide the profit by four, subtract it by eight
We back to sixteen, now add the other two that 'Mega bringin through
So let's see, if we flip this other key
Then that's more for me, mad coke and mad leak
Plus a five hundred, cut in half is two-fifty
Now triple that times three, we got three quarters of another key
The Firm baby, volume one uhh..

Ecouter ce morceau
Titre : Got Yourself A Gun [Ajouter ce morceau à mon blog]
Album : Stillmatic
Année : 2001
Paroles :
[sample singing]
"Woke up this mornin', you got yourself a gun, you got yourself a gun"..

[Chorus]
Yo I'm livin' in this time behind enemy lines
so I got mine, I hope you ("got yourself a gun")
You from the hood, I hope you ("got yourself a gun"
you want beef I hope ya ("got yourself a gun")
And when I see you I'ma take what I want
so you tried to front, hope ya ("got yourself a gun")
You ain't real, hope ya ("got yourself a gun")

[Verse 1]
My first album had no famous guest appearances
the outcome, I'm was crowned the best lyricist
many years on this professional level
why would you question who's better?
the World is still mine, tattoos real
with "God's Son" across the belly, the boss of rap
you saw me in Belly with thoughts like that
to take it back to Africa, I did it with Biggie
Me and 2Pac were soldiers of the same struggle
You lames should huddle, your teams shook y'all feel
the wrath of a killer, 'cause this is my football field
Throwin' passes from a barrel, shoulder pads, apparel
but the Q.B. don't stand for no quarterback
every word is like a sawed-off blast
'cause y'all all soft and I'm the black hearse
that came to haul y'all ass in
it's for the hood by the corner store
many try, many die, come at Nas if you want a war.

[Chorus]

[Verse 2]
I'm the N the A to the S-I-R
and If I wasn't I must've been Escobar
you know the kid got his chipped tooth fixed
Hair parted with a barbers preciseness
Bravehearted for life, it's -
the return of the Golden Child, son of a blues player
so who are you playa? y'all awaited the true savior
puffin' that tropical, cups of that Vodka too
Papi chu', tore up, wake up in a hospital
Throw up? never, 'member I do this through righteous steps
you Judists thought I was gone, so in light of my death
y'all been all happy go lucky, bunch of sambos
call me Gods Son, with my pants low
I don't die slow, put them rags up like Petey Pablo
this is Nasdaq dough, in my Nascar with this Nas flow, reppin'
hit the record sto', never let me go, get my whole collection.

[Chorus]

[Verse 3]
It's - the - return of the Prince, the boss
this is real hardcore, Kid Rock and Limp Bizkit's soft
sip criss, get chips, wrist gliss, I floss
stick shift look sick up in that boxed up Porsche
with the top cut off, rich kids go and cop the source
they don't know about the blocks I'm on
and everybody wanna know where the kid live, where he rest at?
where he shop at and dress at?
know he got dough, where does he live?
is he still in the bridge?
does he really know how ill that he is?
got all of y'all watchin' my moves
my watch and my jewels
hop in my coupe, dodge interviews like that
It's not only my jewels, ice anything, plenty chains
Look at my tennis shoes, I iced that
Who am I? the back twister, lingerie ripper
automatic leg spreader, quicker brain getter
keepin' it gangsta wit' ya

[Chorus]