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Shootouts by Nasالقصائد الغناءيه -текстове на песни -texty -paroles -στίχοι -गीतletras -songteksten -тексты песен -versuri -tekst utworu -testi -the text of the song - - نص الاغنيةтекста на песента -tekst pjesme -text písně -teksten til sangen -teksti, laulu -le texte de la chanson -το κείμενο του τραγουδιού -पाठ के गीतEl texto de la canción -de tekst van het lied -der Text des Liedes -teksten til sangen -o texto da canção -Текст песни -textul de la piesa -Texten till låten -il testo della canzone

Shootouts by Nas

     

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Yo, release what's in me
Besides the Henny, it's eyes that's seen plenty
Fiends get skinny as if Queens was a Craig Jenny
Instead of diet plans it's crack 200 grams

I pump a G-pack, peeping for where the D's at
It's slow, lookin for Rambo, the cop who got grazed
Back in the days, chasin n****z through my project maze
That cop he got a death wish

He run behind n****z until you breathless
Everyday he makin ten arrests, sheeit
My n**** check this, I know the b**** he rest with
I even blessed it, forty-dash-ten inspect it

(Already checked it Dunn, near his ankle you could see his gun)
Peep, he parked his Jeep in the back of the slum
To check Tanisha, fat a** real fly, with the blonde caesar
Vetacini summer gear, she push the two-seater

I heard she brag about the way he eat her
A Irish man short slim with a tan, they say he laced her cheeba
She do be lookin weaker, now her teeth are foul
Speakin loud, peep her style, in and out of every reefer cloud

Fat a** dissolvin, like cotton candy in a mouth that's starvin
Rock the same gear daily, like a soldier in my squadron
I heard she let Jake investigate from her window
'Cause she's a nympho, suckin dick and coughin up info

So now it's set up, her and the beast to get wet up
I know he vest up, we blazin from the neck up
(Yo let me knock first) Soon as he open it your glock burst
They had the chains on, son hit the lock first

We busted in the cop jerked
Jungle popped one in his shirt
I grabbed the b**** by her tits, she tried to say she Earth
We saw the cameras, tape recorders, and the monitors

They eying us (Nas yo he survived one from the fo'-five)
Pull his shades down, they seen his last days now
There's no way now, we can be treated just like a slave now
Two in the dome, he's laid down, aiyyo the b**** is saved now
She's living in a snitch grave now

[Chorus]
Shootouts is similar to Wild West
Broad daylight, face to face without a vest
You know the episodes, thugs camouflage the spectacles
Please God to save the life that the Devil sold
See +It Was Written+ but was never told
Peep the jewels black man, it's even better than gold
N****z roll with iron, police roll in hot pursuit
Tryin' to stop the loot, f*** Jake, c*** and shoot

[Nas]
Still on the streets with my peeps so deep
We threw a block party for my man goin up creek
To do his two to four, n****z show love, from all around the board
Peace Lord, Sony Handi-Cam on record

Pop a bottle, cause when you come home we still got it sewn
We can watch the tape play back and just zone
Film all the b****es, on the benches with ill extensions
We block the streets off, only crew cars can enter

Music was loud and it was crowded
Barbecued wings we fed the fiends (gamble in the back) Killa shouted
And Frank tried to stop the bank loss, about what a Roley cost
Guzzled his drink, and staggered off

He's a Big Will, used to slang krill, now he own the hill
Couldn't take losin his cash, and I could feel
Somethin in the air yeah, Frank returned with Pierre
A gun slinger, who n****z hadn't seen in a year

I usually be holdin - 'specially this type of weekend
And everyone except for me had started reachin
They had gats in each others faces, with kids
And grandmothers around, Frank's only concern was his paper

My man Killa let off, half of them fake n****z jet off
Police blitz quick, waitin for that to set off
Runnin the static, it got me mad cause they a bunch of faggots
Startin s*** in my hood, I can't have it

Yo High, get the 40-cali stainless, Jake is still out
Let's make it real and still make them n****z famous
Dip behind trees in fatigues and squeeze, dodge and weave
Hearin Jake retaliatin, and Wiz was up the alley waitin

We breeze, jump in the ride, heard Pierre died
Internal bleedin inside, and ain't been back since ninety-five

[Chorus]

Writer : R. PIMENTEL, N. JONES, S. BARNES
Copyright : Lyrics © JUMPING BEAN SONGS, LLC , JELLY'S JAMS, LLC , UNIVERSAL MUSIC-Z TUNES

These lyrics are not available for printing.


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