Nas Is Coming  (Album Version)

Nas Is Coming (Album Version)

Nas

The golden child chop that ass up you was holding out
Let the streets be the court and the corners hold the trial
Fatal not fictitious I rock the cable 86
Shit foreign cars with crazy bitches
Mad smoke makes me able to quote
Soliciting images of that murder
Wrote a provocative plan can bring a
Knot to my hand as the pyramid can Stan
On top of the sand
In the heat of the moment like Farrakhan said
We need atonement bullet proof glass,
5-classes chrome kitted up calicoes lifted up.
I didn't get touched checking my nuts
I stood up and lit a dutch
Knowing how these niggas tattle
Sneak move get the drop, one shot
Without the gun battle
So when you run the lead travel
I come through it's taboo 96 ways to clap

[Chorus: x2]
Nas is coming, Nas is coming

In the black limo, jack Daniels through the cracked window
I spot the fake, red dot his face, like a Hindu
Snatched the symbol, ties his hand too
Make examples substantial amounts
You owe the fram crew,
Firm affiliation, paper chasing,
Chips glossy, rich pablo escabano,
Nacho cheese, I'm Castro.
Compared to these niggas who swear to be real
But important the Hoffa NAS pleg kills,
Counting bills to send to all my jail niggas
Who fail from New York to L.A., Q.B. to C.P.I. for G.P.
A hundred g cars, car sent a vega cigars,
Kani shit, mad jiggy
The clout, murder material serial
Like it's something venreal but in stereo

[Chorus]

From child birth hertzes, flow like the Nile, covered surface
I bitch the fruit from the serpant,
Apocalyptic, get bent, stay splifted,
Control the rap game you got it twisted
Dr. Dre way the bridge say, shake dice and kiss it,
Chris plus the six with biscuit, jeep full of chickens,
Pull up aside, have a listen y'all, NAS y'all, fly gangsta
Wavy hair, teeth chipped and
My shit bumped in the courtroom
Drunk links truck,
Rocky bracelet, cognac kernel never chase it,
Rap hero, black Deniro,
Federal bureau, tapped my line and got zero.
Rap pro, diamond roll,
Hustling low profile, white gold style,
Raking bloody dough by the pile.
Shot down, still alive struggling for the phone
These three words are sung

Written by JONES, NASIR / YOUNG, ANDRE ROMELL
Published by Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC

Lyrics Provided By LyricFind Inc.

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