Black Republican
Nas
I know you can feel the magic baby
Turn the motherfuckin lights down
Esco whuttup?
(Whuttup homey)
I mean.. it's what you expected ain't it?
Let's go...
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
Turn the music up and the headphones
uh, Yea, that's perfect
(Yea, right)
Uh, we gots to take and make a
Nigga wait on this motherfucker
(Ha ha ha!)
Make niggaz mad and shit like..
Niggaz usually start rappin'
After 4-bars, nigga go in
Start dancin' in this motherfucker
Yea, (Yea)
Niggaz come outta nowhere...
I feel like a Black Republican,
Money I got comin' in
Can't turn my back on the hood,
I got love for them
Can't clean my act up for good,
Too much thug in 'em
Probably in the back of the hood,
I'm like "Fuck it then"
Huddlin' over the oven,
We was like brothers then (What?)
Though you was nothin' other than
A son of my mother's friend
We had governin',
Who would of thought the love would end
Like ice cold album, all good things
Neva thought we sing the same
Song that all hood sang
Thought it was all wood-grain,
All good brain
You wouldn't bicker like
The other fools talk good game
Neva imagine all the disasters
That one could reign
Could bring!, should bling,
The game, and I could
It's kill or be killed,
How could I refrain?
And foreva be in debt,
That's neva a good thing
To the pressure for success
Can put a good strain
On a friend you call best,
And yes it could bring
Out the worst in every person,
Even the good's insane
Though we rehearsed,
It's just ain't the same
When you put in the game at age sixteen
Then you mix things:
Like cars, jewelry, and miss things
Jealousy, ego, and pride, and this brings
It all to a head like coin, cha-ching
The rule of evil strikes again, this could sting
Now the team got beef between
The Post and the Point
This puts the ring in jeopardy until Liberty...
I feel like a black militant
Takin' over the government
Can't turn my back on the hood,
Too much love for them
Can't clean my act up for good,
Too much thug in 'em
Probably in up back in the hood,
I'm like, "fuck it then"
I'm back in the hood,
They like, "Hey Nas" (Uh)
Blowin' on purp',
Reflectin' on they lives
Couple of fat cats, couple of A.I.'s
Dreamin' of fly shit instead
Of them gray skies
Gray 5's, hate guys wishin' our reign dies
Pitch, sling pies,
And niggaz they sing, "why"?
Guess they ain't strong enough
To handle their jail time
Weak minds, keep tryin',
Follow the street signs
I'm standin' on the roof of my building
I'm feelin' the whirlwind of beef,
I inhale it
Just like an acrobat ready to
Hurl myself though the hoops of fire
Sippin' 80 proof, bulletproof under my attire
Could it be the forces of darkness,
Against hood angels of good
That forms street politics
Makes a sweet honest kid
Turn illegal for commerce
To get his feet out of them Converse
That's my word...
compositores: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, WYATT COLEMAN, CARMINE COPPOLA, NASIR JONES, LESHAN LEWIS
Você é fã de Nas? Gosta da letra da música?
Compartilhe com seus amigos.
Turn the motherfuckin lights down
Esco whuttup?
(Whuttup homey)
I mean.. it's what you expected ain't it?
Let's go...
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
Turn the music up and the headphones
uh, Yea, that's perfect
(Yea, right)
Uh, we gots to take and make a
Nigga wait on this motherfucker
(Ha ha ha!)
Make niggaz mad and shit like..
Niggaz usually start rappin'
After 4-bars, nigga go in
Start dancin' in this motherfucker
Yea, (Yea)
Niggaz come outta nowhere...
I feel like a Black Republican,
Money I got comin' in
Can't turn my back on the hood,
I got love for them
Can't clean my act up for good,
Too much thug in 'em
Probably in the back of the hood,
I'm like "Fuck it then"
Huddlin' over the oven,
We was like brothers then (What?)
Though you was nothin' other than
A son of my mother's friend
We had governin',
Who would of thought the love would end
Like ice cold album, all good things
Neva thought we sing the same
Song that all hood sang
Thought it was all wood-grain,
All good brain
You wouldn't bicker like
The other fools talk good game
Neva imagine all the disasters
That one could reign
Could bring!, should bling,
The game, and I could
It's kill or be killed,
How could I refrain?
And foreva be in debt,
That's neva a good thing
To the pressure for success
Can put a good strain
On a friend you call best,
And yes it could bring
Out the worst in every person,
Even the good's insane
Though we rehearsed,
It's just ain't the same
When you put in the game at age sixteen
Then you mix things:
Like cars, jewelry, and miss things
Jealousy, ego, and pride, and this brings
It all to a head like coin, cha-ching
The rule of evil strikes again, this could sting
Now the team got beef between
The Post and the Point
This puts the ring in jeopardy until Liberty...
I feel like a black militant
Takin' over the government
Can't turn my back on the hood,
Too much love for them
Can't clean my act up for good,
Too much thug in 'em
Probably in up back in the hood,
I'm like, "fuck it then"
I'm back in the hood,
They like, "Hey Nas" (Uh)
Blowin' on purp',
Reflectin' on they lives
Couple of fat cats, couple of A.I.'s
Dreamin' of fly shit instead
Of them gray skies
Gray 5's, hate guys wishin' our reign dies
Pitch, sling pies,
And niggaz they sing, "why"?
Guess they ain't strong enough
To handle their jail time
Weak minds, keep tryin',
Follow the street signs
I'm standin' on the roof of my building
I'm feelin' the whirlwind of beef,
I inhale it
Just like an acrobat ready to
Hurl myself though the hoops of fire
Sippin' 80 proof, bulletproof under my attire
Could it be the forces of darkness,
Against hood angels of good
That forms street politics
Makes a sweet honest kid
Turn illegal for commerce
To get his feet out of them Converse
That's my word...
compositores: SHAWN CARTER, SHAWN C CARTER, WYATT COLEMAN, CARMINE COPPOLA, NASIR JONES, LESHAN LEWIS
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