Somebody told me you're a junkie now And that you've always been a junkie Man I never would've guessed that I used to sit around and wonder how People
She wants to get rid of me (Naw, never) Cause the things I seen (We know too much) Cause the things I seen (We seen too much) [Verse 1] (Nas) Aiyyo,
the name of the Mothers of Invention movie that we've been working on for about three years . . . without too much success. Don: Boy, we really need
rolled up, y'all niggas burnin' this We politic in the street while we puff 'dro Election in the news but we don't give a fuck though Too much go on from
addresses too sloppy when I jot 'em but anyways; eff it, what's been up? Man how's your daughter? My girlfriend's pregnant too, I'm 'bout to be a father
) She wants to get rid of me (Naw, never) Cause the things I seen (We know too much) Cause the things I seen (We seen too much) [Verse 1] (Nas) Aiyyo
copacetical alphabetical hypothetical, now watch me let it go My rhymes are hard, yeah I pulled your card, yeah Labels don't know why rap ain't sellin? Too much dancin and too much
deep Gats that I'm packin, sucker better put it back I'm slappin dumb girls cause my rhymes on hit But on the smooth tip, kickin that butt Had too much
if you don't want it, then burn the hell up ("You out there? LOUDER!") I'm tellin you now boy, you ain't jack Talkin much junk like Mr. T at your back
strapped Day mean business, no time for play If you bite a line, we'll roll your way The more you bite, your body gets hot Don't get too close, because
best MC on your set Man you ain't hear me I did a collab with myself once But I kicked myself off the track Cause I was talking too much junk (too much
the world on fire, watch the sky turn grey [x2] I was born to mourn,I guess that's why I live the life of misery Forever through eternity My mama was a junkie
-his-sentence Any trouble-you-get-in writes your ticket-to-life Expect to go to hell if you livin' wicked-and-trife The media got us addicted-to-hype...videos-too
1 In the crackhouse cutting up the diggety dope Breaking down the keys cutting them up like Riddick Bowe Gotta cook it up good for the dope fiends Not too much
a racket flow It was an act of God I don't know what kind of act it was I don't know how a junkie bust into my room and stole my TV Hey, it wasn't me