[Nas:]
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Foreign cars
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Three for Alize niggaz deceased or behind bars
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I rap divine Gods check the prognosis, is it real or showbiz?
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My window faces shootouts, drug overdoses
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Live amongst no roses, only the drama, for real
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A nickel-plate is my fate, my medicine is the ganja
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Here's my basis, razor embraces, many faces
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Your telephone blowin, black stitches or fat shoelaces
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Peoples are petrol, dramatic automatic fo'-fo' I let blow
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Back down po-po when I'm vexed so
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My pen taps the paper then my brain's blank
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I see dark streets, hustlin brothers who keep the same rank
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[Chorus: Nas]
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It Goes On to the Break Of Dawn, Listening to Words, Knowledge, Word Is Bond
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It Goes On to the Break Of Dawn, Listen to the Words, and the Knowledge
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[Nas:]
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I keep a gem-star razor under my tongue... and near my gums
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When I'm not strapped... blow just before you cock your glocc back
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Touch your temple, leave you leaking, while I'm speaking
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The shit that I be freaking, gives me papers, while I'm sleeping... G
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Walk around mega hard, like wateva God...
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You could'ntcount how many niggas my bretta scarred
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I light the marijuana smoke, and chicks
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And posers that I'm smoking with
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Could'nttake it, my ganja left emotionless
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I leave your brain stuck
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Giving hoes a plain fuck
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They call me Nasty, but I'm not with the strange stuff
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When I'm drunk, I stagger right and lyrics with a dagger
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Next stabber catchin reck, badder than a tec would had of...
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Lefted struck, now whose next up...
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I murder, send me to San Quentin and I'm lynching niggas... Word Up
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A sing-sing, fuck is a hang, still is the same thing...
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No... matter the cell blockNas will be named King
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Slaughter... drinking head rock...
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Forget water, peace to my niggas with my shit in ya tape recorder
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[Chorus: Nas]
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It Goes On, Word Is Bond... Word Is Bond... Lettin Nas Nas be Born... With Westwood
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Yea
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[Nas:]
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Pardon the Curses, but just in the verses, when I...
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Was a kid, I used to blow up the churches
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But now, I got older, snatching purses
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Walking around, I'm a nervous reck
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What the heck?
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Don't disrespect...
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Cause if you do... you might get hit with the tec
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Off the top of my head
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Yes, I'm a blunthead
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The F.I... F.B.I. want me dead
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But yea... I might stutter
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When I'm still crazy butter
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Doing whatever you want
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I'm from the gutter...
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Queensbridge, where I live... New York City
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Where it comes by, and the girls look pretty
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Like my man Malakai said...
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It goes on, Word Is Bond... till the end, my friend I wanna drive me a Benz...
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I swear... and my motherfucking real name is Nasir... Yea
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It Goes On, Like Dat, It Don't Stop
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I keep it real rocking that New York Hip Hop
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Straight outta Queens, by all means
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I chill with sess fiends, in Guess Jeans
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Yes, Yes, It's On
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-----------------
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Westwood Classic Freestyle
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Nas |