Made You Look

• 專輯：God's Son
• 發行：2002-10-17
• 演唱：Nas

作詞：Salaam Remi Gibbs, Nasir Jones, Jeremiah Lordan
Bravehearts, bravehearts
Bravehearts, bravehearts
Bravehearts, bravehearts
Bravehearts
Now let's get it all in perspective
For all y'all enjoyment, a song y'all can step with
Y'all appointed me to bring rap justice
But I ain't five O, y'all know it's Nas yo
Grey goose and a whole lotta hydro
Only describe us as soldier survivors
Stay laced in the best, well dressed with finesse
In a white tee lookin' for wifey
Thug girl who fly and talks so nicely
Put her in the Coupe so she can feel the nice breeze
We can drive through the city no doubt
But don't say my car's topless say the titties is out
Newness here's the anthem put your hand up that you shoot with
Count your loot with, push the pool stick in your new crib
Same hand that you hoop with
Swing around like you stupid
King'a the town, yeah I been that
You know I click-clack where you and your men's at
Do the smurf, do the wop, baseball bat
Rooftop like we bringing 88 back
They shootin' aw made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up
Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at?
They shootin' aw made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up
Where them gangstas at? Where them dimes at?
This ain't rappin', this is street-hop
Now get up off your ass like your seat's hot
My live niggas lit up the reefer
Trunk'a the car we got the streetsweeper
Don't start none, won't be none no reason for your mans to panic
You don't wanna see no ambulances
Knock a pimp's drink down in his pimp cup
That's the way you get Timberland up
Let the music diffuse all the tention
Baller convention, free admission
Hustlers, dealers and killers'ca move swift
Girls get close, you'ca feel where the tool's kept
All my just-comin' homies, parolees
Get money, leave the beef alone slowly
Get out my face, you people so phony
Pull out my waist, the eagle fo-forty
They shootin' aw made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up
Where them gangstas? Where them dimes at?
They shootin' aw made you look
You a slave to a page in my rhyme book
Gettin' big money, playboy your time's up
Where them gangstas at? Where them dimes at?
Bravehearts, bravehearts
Bravehearts, bravehearts
I see niggaz runnin', yo my mood is real rude
I lay you out, show you what steel do
Mobsters don't box, my pump shot obliges
Every invitation to fight you punk asses
Like pun said, 'You not even En Mi Clasa'
Make backspins, back seat, TV plasma
Ladies lookin' for athletes or rappers
Whatever you choose, whatever you do
Make sure he a thug and intelligent too
Like a real thorough bred is, show me love
Lemme feel how the head is
Females whose the sexiest is always the nastiest
And I like a little sassiness, a lotta class
Mommy reach in your bag, pass the fifth
I'm a lead ya at last, this a don you wit'
My nines'll spit, niggaz loose consciousness