[Nas]
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Dre, he a Compton-Compton O.G.
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Nas, he a QB-QB true G
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Do the history
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Way before The Firm, like back in the day
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Nas was the first New York nigga rappin´ with Dre
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So of course I got a track to bring it back to your face
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The one kid that would´ve been Aftermath that got away
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But we still get together like every several years
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to sprinkle, a little bit of Heaven for your ears
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Relax sippin´ Calico in Rio, stupid fuckers
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Low-key, know G´s, but it´s still Gucci luggage
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I love Cape Cod, and watchin´ fly bitches with grey eyes
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wrestle in a tub of KY to get my day by
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I like to celebrate, why? - ´cause I can vision
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collages and images of my lies with no regret to hate
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So every breath I take, is all about the rules
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It´s hard for you to breathe like you at high altitude
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So crack the Patron, it´s on heathens, The God´s back
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Hard body, Mr. Jones never leavin´
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[Chorus #1]
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Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders,
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Make that cake, cop two five-fivers,
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Pimps and players, platinum diamonds,
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East to West Coast we riders,
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Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders,
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Make that cake, cop two five-fivers,
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Pimps and players, platinum diamonds,
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East to West Coast then O.V. (?)
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[Chorus #2: Nas (The Game)]¡¿2
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He a Compton-Compton O.G.
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(Mix that with a QB-QB true G)
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(What you got´s) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
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(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
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[The Game]
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1995, eleven years from the day
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I´m in the record shop with choices to make
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"Illmatic" on the top shelf, "The Chronic" on the left homie
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Wanna cop both but only got a twenty on me
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So fuck it, I stole both, spent the twenty on a dub sack
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Ripped the package off "Illmatic" and bumped that
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For my niggaz it was too complex when Nas rhymed
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I was the only Compton nigga with a "New York State of Mind"
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Inside the dope house bottlin´ up sherm, bangin´ The Firm
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Dre was king then so I waited my turn
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Fast forward, now I´m makin ´em burn
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Ended my peers careers, hollered at Nas, a hard lesson was learned
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So I reconciled my differences like he did with Jigga
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I stopped beefin´ with niggaz, ´cause I´m "Ether" to niggaz
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Comb the earth ´til there´s no one left
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"If I Ruled the World" I summons all you weak rap niggaz to death
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[Chorus: Nas (The Game)]
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He a Compton-Compton O.G.
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(Mix that with a QB-QB true G)
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(What you got´s) A concoction of some different ghetto blocks
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(West Coast kill the tracks) East Coast gunshots
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[Nas]
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Yo, the Jordans sportin´
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Come off the dice game with a fortune walkin´, you a walkin´ coffin´
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The musket I tucked it, you bluff it I bust it
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You´re sideways talkin´, so I lay often
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I wait patient, to duct tape hatin´
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Fuck ass niggaz, get bucked ass niggaz
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Pluck ashes - of Cuban cigars, you foolin´ with Nas
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That´s my name and I came with Rugers this time
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And if I´m sane that "Soul Plane" movie´s the bomb
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Word to my mom´s name tattooed to my arm
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You can´t revolve me, embalm me, calm me or harm me
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Rob me or dodge these bullets I´m bustin´
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See that´s malarky you yappin´
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I open up the tripod to put the gatling on, and I start clappin´
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Nasty man, from baggin´ grams and runnin´ from cops
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to a mill´ on the hand, a mill´ on the watch, I´m fuckin´ with Doc
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[Chorus #1]
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Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders,
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Make that cake, cop two five-fivers,
|
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds,
|
East to West Coast we riders,
|
Hustlers, dealers, drop-top riders,
|
Make that cake, cop two five-fivers,
|
Pimps and players, platinum diamonds,
|
East to West Coast then O.V. (?)
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-----------------
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Hustlers (Album Ver. - Explicit)
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Nas |