*featuring Jadakiss, Ludacris
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[Intro: Jadakiss]
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I need it from the top, AHHH!
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This is history baby
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Commissioner Steve Stoute, Lenny - ha!
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God's Son, whattup?
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D-Block, whattup?
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Bravehearts, whattup? Yeah
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Yeah, yo
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[Verse One: Jadakiss]
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Yo ain't nothin but trouble God
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When I kick in the door with D-Block, Bravehearts and the Double R
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Don't make me let the machine off
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This is methadone music that you can lean off
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"Made You Look," the remix with me up on it
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I copped your shit, now I break weed up on it
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And everything is real I see
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Like my niggaz that been home but they only got a jail ID
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I helped the game, it ain't help me
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I'm top five dead or alive and that's just off one LP
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And, I still buzz, they feel cuz
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Cause they know the flow's Ill just like Will was
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I'm just tryin to make sure that my sons wealthy
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Out of shape but I make sure that my guns healthy
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I'm a ape, you can't stand 'Kiss
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Comin through the hood in a Aston Vanguish the color of dandruff
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They said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff him
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Copped P then turboed soon as they uncuff him
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This goes out to all of your mans
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Why put you in the verse when I can put in a coroner van
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D-Block
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[Chorus 2X: Nas]
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THEY SHOOTIN! Ah made you look
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You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
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Gettin big money, playboy your time's up
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Where them gangsters, where them dimes at?
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[Verse Two: Ludacris]
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Yuh, woo! It's time to go, Luda let's go!
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I'm from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks and low blows
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Where X's mark spots and kitchens mark O's
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Where love is gon' getcha and hate is gon' snitch ya
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And fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictors
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It's the, Mr. Luda, Jada and Nas
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And our bullets give you a deep tissue massage
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So hear a song and dance while I make these ends
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You never stood half a chance like Siamese Twins
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AHHH - THEY SHOOTIN, look in the barrel
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Then he made the front page of the Miami Herald
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or Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doom
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We in that A-Town Journal-list, filed with goons
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You should print my information, quote my rhyme
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And keep me in between these New York and L.A. Times
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I was the victim of society, it's 'Cris the menace
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With mo' shit out on the streets than evicted tenants
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WOOOOOOOO!
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[Chorus]
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[Interlude: Nas]
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Uhh.. uhh..
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(BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS.. BRAVE-HEARTS..)
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Jungle, Wiz, Nashawn!
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We got 'em scared look
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We got 'em scared they runnin
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[Verse Three: Nas]
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Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blinker, the biscuit, the burner
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The heat, the toaster, the twister you meetin your owner
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The banger, the hammer, the flamers I aim at the cannons
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and can ya, manhandlin ya, you'll be famous like cancer do
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And cut, that's the end of your movie
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Pretendin you actin like you and your mens'll come shoot me
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My tennis shoes Gucci, old school pea soup green
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Jean Lee suit on Beaver, clicko champagne
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Friday the 13th my CD drop, I rhyme to more Base than EZ Rock
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I'm Jason, call up P.D. watch
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them Bravehearts, Jungle and Wiz and Nashawn
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Ill Will rasta Lake, never revealin his face on
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TV or pictures or even them niggaz
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Sorry that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone
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[beat scratches out]
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WE SHOOTIN! Squeezin them triggers with Luda beside me
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Me and 'Kiss get Luniz of weed, set to Styles P.
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Tell him hold his head, God's Son got him we made y'all look
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From San Quentin to Riker's Island to.. [fades out]
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Made You Look (Remix)
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| Nas |
