Оригинален текст
Yea, hehe. Don Quan
Original God's Son Nas. That nigg* Cass rules. Whattup baby
Chorus: Quan
Y'all is crazy. (To think) Y'all can't fade me
(Trick these) From the bottom to the top, from the booth to the block
Anyway I got to get it, I'm givin it all I got
Y'all haters can't hold me. (No Way) And y'all don't want to zone me
(Want it your way) So when I get, I'm gon' get it, in my life how I live it
and whips that I be whippin, smokin on the exquisite
Nas
In the crib, two bricks of coke, liquor and dope
Pretty Hawaian girls who eat choch and
Same that get down, remember them
California style, yeah I went back again
But much wiser, 'cause these guys are
Leave you up creek and won't lose sleep
So while we pack the heat, I got the heckler and koch
My man got the dot, five-oh block
It's like the movies shots as watch
But the American version
East coast, west coast as we connect these curtains
'Cause we ain't scared to buck, step on the Timbs and Chuck's
Is gonna happen, gun clappin, remember that
Now we on the soothern part of the map
Houston, party of the year, everybody there
Texas, no guestlist, only real players allowed
Me and my dudes make out rounds *Yall must be crazy*
Chorus: Quan
Quan
VA game spittin, platinum grill grinnin
Chrome rims spinnin, with wood grain glistenin
Any amount we sippin, passion for thugs livin
Free, fresh and out of prison
Flexin that new edition
Good grain gettin, s**t and lovin the feelin
Bobby Womack singin, My wrist and rings gleaming
Hat c*cked duce, puffin the quarter loosely
Poppin the bottle and tippin the fifth of that to goosey
Shinnin for Swill and Halle, smokin for Lil' Shawney
Still reppin Bad Newz, and all my soldiers fallen
Enjoy some better days, dispute burdens I carry
See cousin hookin money, for God momma terry
Floss every chance I get, spread love freely
Still spittin this gangsta s**t, 'cause the streets need me
Still got that mack milly, for actin silly
still pimpin gangsta pretty, reppin the 7 cities
Chorus: Quan
Cassidy
Yeah, I pray every day for a better life
I say it's gon' get better but it's like I'm never right
Make it better Christ, I'm on both of my knees
There's no hope, that why I'm smokin the trees
d*mn, all for the cheese, I lost both of my mans
That's why theres toasters in both of my hands
d*mn, and I'll sell coke and birds 'fore I go to work
I go to the Range more than I go to church
My whole mentality twisted, but this reality isn't it
I ain't tryin to be fatality listed
And yo bredrin, gettin dough is like goin to heaven
And goin to jail, like goin to hell
But before I go in the grave, I'll go in the cell
Just send my son mo' dough in the mail
Oh well, but I got god on my side so I'm beatin the case
This life crazy but I'm keepin the faith
Chorus: Quan