Nas on fast life
• Written by Anonymous
Yo I got, guns from Italy, smoke trees, considerably
Mid-state and Green it seems, is where all my niggas be
The ghetto misery, shootouts and liquor stores
A perpendicular, angle of the clout war
Police searchin' up my Lexo but who's petro
My tech blows straight off the roof and tests yo' respect though
But dough don't respect me, it got me handcuffed
The rough life, I just be up nights, breathin' with scuffed Nike's
Pour my beers for my peoples under the stairs
These years I got they names in my swears
Poppin Cristal like it's my first child, lickin shots, holiday style
Rockin Steele sweaters, Wallabee down
Twenty-four carats, countin cabbage, like the arabs
The marriage of me and the mic is just like magic
Elegant performance, bubble Lex full insurance
Guzzlin Guinness shootin catchin cases concurrent
It's Nas, seven hundred wives, King Solomon size
We on the rise, me and G, ghetto wise guys
The Luciano, Frankie Yale, Bugsy Siegel
Green papers with eagles from a trade that's illegal