(Street's disciple, my raps are trifle
I shoot slugs from my brain just like a rifle
Stampede the stage, I leave the microphone split
Play Mr. Tuffy while I'm on some Pretty Tone shit
Verbal assassin, my architect pleases
When I was twelve, I went to...)
Chill chill, that's the shit God, chill
Aiyyo yo, pull down the shade, man.
Let's count this money, nigguh
Aiyyo Nas, put the Jacksons and the Grants over there
You know what I'm sayin?
Cause we spendin the Jacksons
Right, yeah.
You know how we get down baby
True, true"Nas, yo Nas, man shit is mad real right now in the Projects
for a nigga yo, word to mother. All them crab ass rappers
be comin up to me man word to mother man I think we need
to let them niggaz know it's real man
True indeed, knahmsayin, but when it's real you doin this
even without a record contract, knahmsayin?
No question
Been doin this since back then
No doubt
I'm saying regardless how it go down we gon keep it real
We trying to see many mansions and...and Coupes kid!
No doubt, we gon keep it real
True, true...
Aiyyo where's Grand Wizard and Mayo at man?
Takin niggas a long time, man..."
Who got the Phillies? Take this Hennessey
Aiyyo Dunn! C'mon, c'mon, man stop waving that man
Stop pointing that at me Dunn, take the clip out
Nigga alright but take this Hennessey man
I'm saying take the clip man
C'mon, take it out...
Light them Phillies up man
Niggaz stop fucking burning Phillies man
Light some Phillies up then!
Pass that Amber Boch, pass that Amber Boch, nigga! Act like you know.
Yo, we drinking this straight up with no chaser
I ain't fucking with you nigga
I'm saying though man...
What is it, what is it baby?
What is it Son, what is it?You know what time it is
I'm saying man, ya know what I'm saying?
Niggaz don't listen man, representing
It's Illmatic.
compositores: NASIR JONES
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