More songs by Raekwon
More songs by Nas
Description
Producer: Nottz
Recording Engineer: Taz Green
Recording Engineer, Mixing Engineer: Zeke Mishanec
Assistant Engineer: Genome Georgelin
Mixing Engineer: Jim King
Additional Mixing Engineer: Sam Lazarev
Lyrics and translation
Original
Ayo, call me an embedded gambler who run the Carolinas.
The fans come, throw bags, it's law and order. Rap shit just slow gassin'.
Bring water like the Johnny pumps that flow nasty. Hit sewers with shooters, the audacity.
Fascinatin', appealin', underworld with Wonder Girl.
Dope fiends love it, shootin' they nuggets up.
Extreme criminality, I'm like the raw stings, The Offsprings, all of this tucked inside my galaxy. Frankie Yale of the jails, silks, diamond spiders.
We master writers, you dumb out, relentless on the come out.
Nocturnal habits, the mavens. I'm too insulated. This is just a crusade, nigga, we made it.
Everybody in the crowd. Get into it. Everybody in the crowd. Get in the crowd.
Everybody, yeah, yeah. Get in the crowd. Everybody, yeah, yeah. Everybody.
Night of the long knives, focus the gun toters.
The fold is gettin' older, it's over now. Eatin' hummus in Rovers, see tweakin', fumblin' gophers.
Get rocked in they loafers tryna stunt. Blunt frontin', knowin' niggas'll notice.
We jewel kings, hate to bother you, rob you. Don't even argue with us, slide it off.
Make a movie, noddin' off. Drinkin' makers, the paint brushes, we cake makers.
Louis luggage, puffin' the Dewey Brothers, we straight haters.
Ferragamos, glass shoe taste, what's this? Just a silk and a crunch wrist, you're lunch, niggas.
Call the chef and his leftovers, they eat everything.
Some niggas get caught in they best -moments.
-We the examples, we who we said we was, never faked it.
Ones who were jury they couldn't play with, the ones who stayed rich. Details of my revolutionary ways probably get studied, some CIA shit.
Who has true power? Brothers let the cash gas 'em up.
Let a piece of ass drive 'em crazy, that's nasty stuff. Notice how it's growin', all these suckers are gutless.
Get a little money and turn into Uncle Ruckus.
This ain't a stupid cartoon, though. I'm the truth, but you know.
Now you feel like you Anthony Supplytro, you not though. Money bought you some goons, though.
I tell it straighter than a high comb. You a knockoff, you not from the cloth.
Scary nigga, my natural instinct is tell it real and let it sink in. I had to think quick and not let the weak win.
Got smoke for me? Beef with yourself.
I be chiefin' too hard to notice every week it be somebody else. Soon as my name's mentioned, lames are offended.
If words hurt you, it wasn't intended.
But when it comes to my words, if I said it, I meant it. If the shoe fits, this one is for you, bitch.
You got me confused with your fabricated form of delusion. You're dusty, need to be bitch-smacked.
Face on the stunt, feet on concrete. They want me tricked back.
30 on bottles alone, a mil' on the wrist, facts. Excellency, dudes is envious, they pretend to be us.
Feminine traits, fake, low-key, they women disgusted.
Lame for life, a list of them, rich bums. Broke and soft, speak on me like I'm a bitch or somethin'.
It's mind-boggling who they are behind the scenes. It gets spooky in Brooklyn, Bronx,
Harlem, and all of Queens. It's Staten Island, real type shit.
Dying species of real men, I feel that shit, yo.
Get into it. Everybody in the crowd. Get in the crowd. Everybody, yeah, yeah.
Get in the crowd. Everybody, yeah, yeah.
Everybody in the crowd. Get into it. Everybody in the crowd. Get in the crowd.
Everybody, yeah, yeah. Get in the crowd.
Everybody, yeah, yeah.
Everybody in the crowd. Get into it. Everybody in the crow