f/ Nas
* send corrections to the typist
[Intro: Nas]
I only fuck with my niggaz, I gotta keep it tight
With my big brother, Bumpy Knuckles
One ride on these niggaz my nigga, huh
Turn up the mics, yeah, lets get crazy, nigga whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch-ass niggaz is swazee
Check it out
[Verse 1: Nas]
I'm Nasty but fuck bitches, handcuff snitches
Feed they nuts to pit bulls and play more business
Got sluts on leashes walkin on all fours
Have 'em eatin from dog bowls pattin they heads
Cause they love playin that role they sexy in bed
Smokin bud' I'm outta control wish death on the feds
Cop spills with grey grews watch 'em snuff films
Laughin with dykes that wear patterned leather with spikes
My cheddar is right, Miami beats playin it low
Saint Bucks rent a house and a boat
Twohundred thou' in my throat
That's only half of what my wife eyes cost
Phonecall, hearin another boss got his life lost
Well, whipin sand off on my toes
Read a book called "Catcher in the rye", I chose
Some Bob Marley and I plotted a scheme
To make me and Bump Knux more rich
Than I got me a team, he got 'em a team
He tryin to buy G-force or missile arms
Try to walk around with beef, without pistols on us
See force better I'm callin up some b-more killers
That come and bleed you
Show us the suns and the skies you're sure they die
You washed up, fuck your people
Your money ain't as long as mine you dumb and you foul
Who you tryin to squeeze all this fuck with ?alzamaz? desease
We the new breed, nigga
Turn up the mics, uh holler at somebody real
Turn out the lights, aha Bumpy Knuckles, God's Son get right motherfucker
Turn up the mics
[Bumpy Knux]: aha yeah turn the motherfuckers up
Turn out the lights
[Bumpy Knux]: that's right ya'll know why, I tell you why
Suicide suicide
[Verse 2: Bumpy Knuckles]
It's Bump I'm rowdy I'm wild
I'm crazy I'm sick I talk slick
Name brand bitches all on my dick
I don't trip I meet bitches in this game that got pretty famous names
All that projects' pussy, nigga, all the same
We gangsters, we keepin it hardcore keep it street
Keepin guns and microphones, be keepin heat
I'm the unsquashable beef I put it in your rider
That means that every show I be layin in your dressing room
Next to the Henney Rock two times .20 cocked
I'm a cold assed nigga that keep shit plenty hot
My bubble goose is stocked with double truth
For you old-assed gangsters and you troubled youth
Knowin ; I hate cops and niggaz with cop friends
And still by wait in the hood they drop ends
With little marks on 'em scratched by the eye
You hand me the money you must wanna die
Nigga, I won't remake a Pac record or say a Biggie verse
And I shoot you without smokin a Ziggy Marley first
God's Son we hot in here
Bravehearts we hot in here, niggaz they got to fear!
[Outro: Nas]
Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, nigga whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch ass niggaz is swazee
Check it out
Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, nigga whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch ass niggaz is swazee
Check it out
Turn up the mics, yeah lets get crazy, nigga whut
Turn up the mics, y'all bitch ass niggaz is swazee
Shh