Some nikkaz fukk they enemies in they ass when they catch 'em
Weird-ass nikkaz are dangerous, so don't test 'em
They make you, dissapear, this a year that I won't forget
Sold CD's double platinum, met mo' execs
Southern nikkaz, independent label, real killers
Know the business, ran Tennessee for years, now they chillin
They had the coke game somethin crazy
Sold music out the trunk of they car, that shyt amazed me
Put me onto heron blunts, sherm or somethin
Took a puff, what the fukk, I turned to punch them
Southern nikkaz ain't slow, nikka tried to play me
I left from around them dudes, they cool but they crazy
Now I'm back around the old school that raised me
New York gangstas, we loungin, out in L.A. see
A dude wrote my dawg from Pelican Bay
The letter say, "Nas I got your back - the fools don't play"
I rolled with some Crips down to a Crenshaw funeral
Never saw so many men slaughtered and I knew the ho responsible
The nikka still alive in a hospital
Midnight they crept in his room and shot the doctor too
See my cousin's in the game, thuggin and things
He plugged me with a dame who was half-Mexicano
Gave the ass up, I'ma mack daddy Soprano
She passed me the indigo, but the imbecile
shoulda never tippy-toed, thought my eyes were closed
Openin the hotel room do', to let her goons in
But I moved in a manner, on some Jet Li shyt
I let the hammers blow, wet three kids
See honey thought I had somethin to do, with all the drama
Cause I was with a crew, that had her people killed
Called up my cousin, told him I ain't fukkin witchu
He responded cool, but told me out here this how motherfukkers
"Get down, get down! Get down, get down!" - James Brown