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Nas - Hustlers - текст песни, видео

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Nas - Hustlers - текст песни, видео

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[Nas] 
Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G. 
Nas, he a QB-QB true G 
Do the history 

Way before The Firm, like back in the day 
Nas was the first New York nigga rappin' with Dre 
So of course I got a track to bring it back to your face 
The one kid that would've been Aftermath that got away 
But we still get together like every several years 
to sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for your ears 
Relax sippin' Calico in Rio, stupid fuckers 
Low-key, know G's, but it's still Gucci luggage 
I love Cape Cod, and watchin' fly bitches with grey eyes 
wrestle in a tub of KY to get my day by 
I like to celebrate, why? - 'cause I can vision 
collages and images of my lies with no regret to hate 
So every breath I take, is all about the rules 
It's hard for you to breathe like you at high altitude 
So crack the Patron, it's on heathens, The God's back 
Hard body, Mr. Jones never leavin' 

[Chorus #1] 
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders 
Make that cake, cop two five fivers 
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds 
East to West Coast we riders 

[Chorus #2: Nas (The Game)] 
He a Compton-Compton O.G. 
(Mix that with a QB-QB true G) 
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks 
(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots 

[The Game] 
1995, eleven years from the day 
I'm in the record shop with choices to make 
"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the left homie 
Wanna cop both but only got a twenty on me 
So fuck it, I stole both, spent the twenty on a dub sack 
Ripped the package off "Illmatic" and bumped that 
For my niggaz it was too complex when Nas rhymed 
I was the only Compton nigga with a "New York State of Mind" 
Inside the dope house bottlin' up sherm, bangin' The Firm 
Dre was king then so I waited my turn 
Fast forward, now I'm makin 'em burn 
Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a hard lesson was learned 
So I reconciled my differences like he did with Jigga 
I stopped beefin' with niggaz, 'cause I'm "Ether" to niggaz 
Comb the earth 'til there's no one left 
"If I Ruled the World" I summons all you weak rap niggaz to death 

[Chorus: Nas (The Game)] 
He a Compton-Compton O.G. 
(Mix that with a QB-QB true G) 
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks 
(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots 

[Nas] 
Yo, the Jordans sportin' 
Come off the dice game with a fortune walkin', you a walkin' coffin' 
The musket I tucked it, you bluff it I bust it 
You're sideways talkin', so I lay often 
I wait patient, to duct tape hatin' 
Fuck ass niggaz, get bucked ass niggaz 
Pluck ashes - of Cuban cigars, you foolin' with Nas 
That's my name and I came with Rugers this time 
And if I'm sane that "Soul Plane" movie's the bomb 
Word to my mom's name tattooed to my arm 
You can't revolve me, embalm me, calm me or harm me 
Rob me or dodge these bullets I'm bustin' 
See that's malarky you yappin' 
I open up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I start clappin' 
Nasty man, from baggin' grams and runnin' from cops 
to a mill' on the hand, a mill' on the watch, I'm fuckin' with Doc 

[Chorus #1] 
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders 
Make that cake, cop two five fivers 
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds 
East to West Coast we ridin' 

[Chorus #2: Nas (The Game)] 
He a Compton-Compton O.G. 
(Mix that with a QB-QB true G) 
(What you got's) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks 
(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
Добавлено: 30.03.2012
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