Nas-Made You Look Lyrics

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Nas-Made You Look Lyrics

by Various Artists

[shotgun blast]

[old school break beat, thugs chant "bravehearts!" 7x]



[verse 1: nas]

Uh, uh, uh, now lets get it all in perspective

For all yall enjoyment, a song yall can step wit

Yall appointed me to bring rap justice

But I aint five-o, yall know its nas yo

Grey goose and a whole lotta hydro

Only describe us as soldier survivors

Stay laced in the best, well dressed with finesse

In a white tee lookin for wifie

Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely

Put her in the coupe so she can feel the nice breeze

We can drive thru the city no doubt, but dont say my cars topless

Say the titties is out, newness heres the anthem

Put your hand up that you shoot with, count your loot wit

Push the pool stick in your new crib, same hand that you hoop with

Swing around like you stu-pid, kinga the town, yeah I been that

You know I click-clack where you and yor mens at

Do the smurf, do the wop, baseball bat

Rooftop like we bringing 88 back



[chorus: nas]

They shootin! -- aw made you look

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book

Gettin big/"big" money, playboy your times up

Where them gangstas? where them dimes at?



They shootin! -- aw made you look

You a slave to a page in my rhyme book

Gettin big/"big" money, playboy your times up

Where them gangstas at? where them dimes at?



[verse 2: nas]

This aint rappin, this is street-hop

Now get up off your ass like your seats hot

My live niggaz lit up the reefer

Trunka the car we got the streetsweeper

Dont start none, wont be none

No reason for your mans to panic

You dont wanna see no ambulances

Knock a pimps drink down in his pimp cup

Thats the way you get timberlandd up

Let the music diffuse all the tension

Ball or convention, free admission

Hustlers, dealers and killersca move swift

Girls get close, youca feel where the tools kept

All my just-comin homies, parolees

Get money, leave the beef alone slowly

Get out my face, you people so phoney

Pull out my waist, the eagle fo-forty



[chorus]

[thugs chanting "bravehearts!" 4x over dj scratching gunshots]



[verse 3: nas]

I see niggaz runnin, yo my mood is real rude

I lay you out, show you what steel do

Mobsters dont box, my pump shot obliges

Every invitation to fight you punk hazas

Like pun said, "you aint even en mi clasa"

Maybach benz, back seat, tv plasma

Ladies lookin for athletes or rappers

Whatever you choose, whatever you do

Make sure he a thug and intelligent too

Like a real thoroughbred is, show me love

Lemme feel how the head is

Females whose the sexiest is always the nastiest

[record scratched off, nas rhymes acapella]

And I like a little sassiness, a lotta class

Mommy reach in your bag, pass the fifth

Im a leader, at last this a don you wit

My ninesll spit, niggaz loose consciousness