The Message

Lyrics

[Produced by Trackmasters] [Verse 1] Fake thug, no love, you get the slug CB4 Gusto, your luck low, I didn't know 'til I was drunk though You freak niggas played out, get fucked and ate out Prostitute turned bitch, I got the gauge out 96 ways I made out Montana way, the Good F-E-L-L-A, verbal AK spray Dipped attache, jump out the Range, empty out the ashtray A glass of 'Zé make a man Cassius Clay Red dot plots, murder schemes, 32 shotguns Regulate with my thuns, 17 rocks gleam from one ring Then let me let y'all niggas know one thing There's one life, one love, so there can only be one King The highlights of livin', Vegas-style, roll dice in linen Antera spinnin' on Millenniums 20G bets I'm winnin' 'em, threats I'm sendin' 'em Lex with TV sets—the minimum, ill sex adrenaline Party with villains, a case of Demi-Sec to chase the Henny Wet any clique with the semi TEC, who want it? Diamonds I flaunt it, chickenheads flock, I lace 'em Fried, broiled with basil, taste 'em Crack they legs way out of formation It's horizontal how I have 'em fuckin' me in the Benz wagon Can it be Vanity from Last Dragon? Grab your gun, it's on though Shit is grimy, real niggas buck in broad daylight With the broke MAC, it won't spray right Don't give a fuck who they hit as long as the drama's lit Yo, overnight thugs bug 'cause they ain't promised shit Hungry-ass hooligans stay on that piranha shit [Refrain] I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' I never sleep, 'cause sleep is the cousin of death I ain't the type of brother made for you to start testin' [Verse 2] I peeped you frontin' I was in the Jeep, sunk in the seat, tinted, with heat, beats bumpin' Across the street, you was wildin', talkin' about how you ran the Island in '89 Layin' up, playin' the yard with crazy shine I cocked the baby 9, that nigga gravy mine, clanked him What was he thinkin' on my corner when it's pay-me time? Dug 'em, you owe me, cousin, somethin' told me "Plug him!" So dumb, felt my leg burn, then it got numb Spun around and shot one, heard shots and dropped, son Caught a hot one, somebody take this biscuit 'fore the cops come Then they came, askin' me my name, what the fuck? I got stitched up, it went through, left the hospital that same night, what Got my gat back, time to backtrack I had the drop, so how the fuck I get clapped? Black was in the Jeep watchin', all he seen speed by was a brown Datsun And yo, nobody in my hood got one That clown nigga's through, blazin' at his crew daily The 'Bridge touched me up severely, hear me? So when I rhyme, it's sincerely yours Be lightin' L's, sippin' Coors on all floors in project halls Contemplatin' war, niggas I was cool with before We used to score together Uptown, coppin' the raw But, uh—a thug changes, and love changes And best friends become strangers (Word up) [Refrain 2] Y'a–Y'all know my steelo Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that could strike back Y'a–Y'all know my steelo Ther–Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that could strike back Y'a–Y'all know my steelo Ther–Ther–Ther–There ain't an army that could strike back Y'a–Y'all know my steelo There ain't an army that could strike back [Outro: Nas & (AZ)] Thug niggas Yo, to them thug niggas gettin' it on in the world, you know? To them niggas that's locked down Doin' they thing, survivin', ya know'm sayin'? To my thorough niggas, New York and worldwide Yo, to the Queensbridge Militia '9-6 shit, The Firm clique Illmatic, nigga, It Was Written though It's been a long time comin' Y'all fake niggas, tryin' to copy Better come with the real though, fake-ass niggas, yo (They throw us slugs, we throwin' them back, what) Bring the shit, man! Live, man! (Fuck that, son, word up) '9-6 shit