Music – text of songs

(feat. Keri Hilson)

[Chorus:]
Chain gleaming
Switching lanes
Two-seating
Hate him or love him
For the same reason
Can’t leave it
The games needs him
Plus the people need someone to believe in
So in God’s Son we trust
‘Cause they know I’m gonna give ‘em what they want
They looking for… a hero
I guess that makes me… a hero

Another chapter of the cleanest rapper
Distinguished gentlemen
Crooks and castle on his back
Maybach-er, exotic lady eye-catcher
Holla at’cha, call me the chiropractor
Working like Muay Thai class
Get perspire out ya
And of course I’ve been the boss since back when
Rocking D Boy, Fila, velour in a 190 black Benz
Now they shut down the stores when I’m shopping
Used to be train robbing, face covered in stocking
I’m him

[Chorus]

Rubber-grip-holder, reloader
Come at me I’m a rip your soldiers in half
Silver back ape, nickel-plated mag
Young, rich, and flashy
Young, bitch, I’m nasty
All black clothes till ice lay on me so classy
And every time I close my lids
I can still see the borough, I can still see the Bridge
I can still see the dreams that my niggas ain’t never lived to see
Tell them angels open the door for me
From nine Berrettas and moving raw
To chilling in wine cellars
Sticks and humidors
That’s what I call mature
That’s what I call a g
That’s what I call a pimp
That’s what I call a gangsta
To the fullest, shit
I try to make more cream
By every September 14th, that’s my dream
So I can be more clean, as I grow yearly
I can see things more clearly
That’s why they fear me

[Chorus]

This universal apartheid
I’m hog-tied, the corporate side
Blocking y’all from going to stores and buying it
First L.A. and Doug Morris was riding with it
But Newsweek article startled big wigs
They said, Nas, why is he trying it?
My lawyers only see the Billboard charts as winning
Forgetting – Nas the only true rebel since the beginning
Still in musical prison, in jail for the flow
Try telling Bob Dylan, Bruce, or Billy Joel
They can’t sing what’s in their soul
So untitled it is
I never change nothin’
But people remember this
If Nas can’t say it, think about these talented kids
With new ideas being told what they can and can’t spit
I can’t sit and watch it
So, shit, I’m a drop it
Like it or not
You ain’t gotta cop it
I’m a hustler in the studio
Cups of Don Julio
No matter what the CD called
I’m unbeatable, y’all.

(feat. Chris Brown & The Game)

Lace the nations don’t have it
A hatred addict
I need faces mad with frowns
When I’m around
Or I’m wasting the fabric
I don’t feel greater
To my plush pieces
‘Cause you to suck your teeth
So mean-mugging on my clean-thugging
Mean nothing
Women dream I’m your husband
I’m Alex Pushkin
The black poetry-writing Russian
Ice disgusting
I started bling
How could you question my direction
Or my time for collection
Gangstas two-steppin’
You hate me
Should thank me
But lately
I burned so much trees
I keep environmentalists angry
I’m a rare dude, I’m a wonder
Your best success is my worst blunder
Y’all living trendy on pennies
I cop plenty Fendi
Vivienne Westwood, I’m good
Get the whole Trump Tower top floor for the hood
Dre & Cool, we riding heavy
And why to Miami? ‘Cause … .
(We make the world go round)
Now let’s toast to the hustlers
(We make the world go round)
Tell the hustlers, toast to the gangstas.
(We make the world go round)
Tell the gangstas, toast to the ballers
(We make the world go round)
And tell the ballers pour glass for all us.
(We make the world go round)
I see you haters on the floor jockin my swag
I’m popping Ralph Lauren tags
I’m pouring champagne inside a polo glass
Model b’tches rollin grass
Escabon folding cash
Toasting with my entourage
Went for Robin Armitage
To all my stars
Red carpet to the Larmitage
We throwin red dice
At the Mirage
I pull that red Lamborghini
Or twenties out my garage
Instead of shopping South Beach like – and Terror Squad
We the Best! big pippin
Top down chrome spinnin
Top Gun Tom Cruise
Tucked inside my Gucci linen
No
Jess Romo you tryin’ a shine
Up on with the nine
On your jersey for promo
Jessica Simpson that’s so-so
Nick warner’s baby back
With – lo so.
Devil white
5-0 they catch me at the pro bowl on the field diamonds
Choking the jockey on my
Polo
CB let em know though
(We make the world go round)
Tell the hustlers, toast to the gangstas.
(We make the world go round)
Tell the gangstas, toast to the ballers
(We make the world go round)
And tell the ballers pour glass for all us.
(We make the world go round)
We make the world go round From my town to your town
We on top no stopping us now
We got patron to ballers two steppin
Ladies on the float and all in two steppin
From Malay to Harlem two stepping [echo]
So I’ stop cause we made it where the ladies are

We start with Bellini’s and end with Patron shots
H. Lorenzo belt buckle from Chrome Heart
A-life tag popper
It’d be sad not to walk out the store with bags
Worth a 100 cash, shopping
Balance only would hafta
Hafta to swell you up
Before a pea snaps as you wet a vanilla dutch
Mets cap, that’s Queens, I’m a vet
Bet that, 300 carats the average up on the neck, black
Paid the cost, be the boss, Black Caesar floss
Weekends at the Venetian, pull up in that black Porsche
Top down, new fashion
Seeing me is like seeing through the lens of Helmut Newton’s camera
Light flashing, and I’m laughin’
My plaque’s from album sales
Y’all is ringtone platinum
But .99 cents adds up
I don’t hate ‘em, I congratulate ‘em
The new young Prince with young Mike Jackson on the same track, what!
Now let’s toast to the hustlers
(We make the world go round)
Tell the hustlers, toast to the gangstas.
(We make the world go round)
Tell them gangstas, toast to the ballers
(We make the world go round)
And tell the ballers pour glass for all us.
(We make the world go round).

[Chorus:]
And America ya never be free
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Damn, can’t a nigga just breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

Bravehearts still QB’s Finest
Grindin’, enough diamonds to change the climate
Not only do you see a nigga shinin’
You can see a nigga breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

Jewels enchanted, like they was new from Atlantis
Cruise with the hammer
Jealous hearted can’t stand him
Haters are scandalous
Damn, can’t a nigga just breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

To all my niggas getting money in the streets
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Light up my tress
And I just breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

I twist em
Baby mama beat victim
Chronic leaf hittin’
All kinds of heat with him, wisdom
From pot to piss in to high position
Intense hustle, is pain like a pinched muscle
Till it rains and my Timbs stain my socks
Till I dodge enough shots
And the presiding judge slams a mallot
It’s his life I’m a gwop
Then I copp
Then I yacht
Then I dot
Island hoppin’ away from nightmare holders
Or cowboys slingers
Who shoot up any club
To see their names ring loud on some FBI poster
Must be on X or he coked up
Suggestin’ I post a, bail
I’m like yes ’cause we soldiers
We just gettin’ older
In time, we still in our prime
I can’t afford a new arrest in my folder
Nigga breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

And America ya never be free
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Damn, can’t a nigga just breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

Bravehearts still QB’s Finest
Grindin’, enough diamonds to change the climate
Not only do you see a nigga shinin’
You can see a nigga breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

Jewels enchanted, like they was new from Atlantis
Cruise with the hammer
Jealous hearted can’t stand him
Haters are scandalous
Damn, can’t a nigga just breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

To all my niggas getting money in the streets
Middle fingers up, fuck the police
Light up my tress
And I just breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)

I’m fresh out of city housing
It had to many options
Pennies on the pension or penitentiary bounded
Plenty Henny in me
Envy was simply they trend see
My enemy was every hater that was bigger than me

The high life, the fly life
Pierre Hardy, imitation of Christ
Icewear gaudy, since ’94 flossy
The Lex was an excellent choice
Now fast forward me
The pestilence of the ghetto informed me
As a shorty, to push nothin’ less than a 740
With fresh linen
Sip pellegrinos with airs on
They sick, mixing their water with airbourne

Oh they so sick!
Look how I got them all crazy, look at that!
You gotta let it out. Stress ain’t good man!
You gotta breathe (breathe, breathe, breathe)
(America we gotta be free)

(Breathe, breathe, breathe) [x4].

(feat. Eban Thomas of The Stylistics & The Last Poets)

From Willie Lynch to Willie Hutch
Right on
We superfly
Made Gucci this shit, Louie too
Suits and ties
Player trophies
Pray to Goldie
Picture wax museums full of Black Panther triple OGs
Aunt Jemima hos
Historic horse shit
Girls from long time ago
Stagecoach with the horse, kid
Witch doctors
Good old pickpockets
Sip moonshine
So-called coons, shines and darkies
I love ya’ll
Pyramids to cotton fields to Wrigley Fields
Forgotten men who didn’t get killed
Christmas addicts
The first blast and peace to the rich lady
Purse snatcher shot in the back
I know your hunger, kid
I know they hung your dad
Burnt your mama crib
I know that hurt you bad
Mystery shows
From gold to shackles and back to gold
We act like we home
Matter fact, we are home
Bad attitudes
Octaroon skin tones
Slave food turned to soul food
Collards and neck bones
Betsy Ross sewed the first American flag
Bet she had a nigga with her to help her old ass

As James Baldwin says
You can only be destroyed by believing
That you really are what the white world considers
A nigger

No matter how hard you try
You can’t stop us now

Can’t be stopped
Yo on Dateline
The other night they showed hate crimes
Gave a Blood time
Cause he fought with his canine
Bestiality
Humane Society
Go to China, see how they dine
See what they eat
Better yet ask PETA whoever
Which animal makes suede
If not for suede would you have survived the Dark Ages?
Cannibal ways of the anti-Caucasians
Still you like your steak tartar
Pinot noir
David Starr on the chain of Sammy Davis
He helped pave the way for Southern crankers and them Harlem shakers
Now we getting our papers
And try to censor the words
To stop our money coming
But you can’t escape us
Haters.

Ayyo, Queens get the money, niggas still screaming paper chase.
But presidential candidates is planning wars with other nations, over state with Masons.
Pregnant teens give birth to intelligent gangsters, they daddy’s faceless.
Play this by your stomach, let my words massage it and rub it.
I be his daddy if no one is there to love it.
Tell him his name Nasir, tell him how he got here.

Mama was just having fun with someone above her years.
Niggas is still hating.
Talking that Nas done fell off with rhyming, he rather floss with diamonds.
They pray, “Pleased God, let him spit that oozie in the army lining.
That shorty do-op rolling ooh-ops in the park reclining.
Take 27 emcee’s, put them in a line and they out of alignment.

Artist: Nas
Genres: Hip-Hop
           Rap: Hip-Hop

Artist: Kid Rock
Album: Rock ‘n’ Roll Jesus: Parental Advisory
Year: 2008
Genre: Rock

Download album Rock ‘n’ Roll Jesus

Turn me up in the headphones

Been alotta cheap talk but I rock still
From the streets of Shanghai back to Knoxville
Sittin’ high on a mountain top holdin’ shop spreadin’ the good news
Been alotta false prophets and quick hits
And a lot of unAmerican bullshit
But the time has come to settle and the devil’s gonna make u choose

And just like a cold wind blowin’ can u feel me comin’ for u
Just like a freight train rollin’ packed tight full of rhythm and blues

Testify
It’s a Rock revival
Don’t need a suit
Ya don’t need a bible
Get up and dance
I’m gonna set you free yeah
Testify
It’s all sex, drugs, rock n roll
A soul sensation that you can’t control
And you can see I practice what I preach
I’m your rock n roll Jesus
Yes I am

Been alotta bling bling but it ain’t real
And alotta new kings but I won’t kneel
Sittin’ high on a mountain top, holdin’ shop singin’ the raw dog blues
Like in old Mississippi’s dirty cotton fields
Or in Detroit City’s unforgotten wheels
It’s the same song spinning but the same song’s always been true

And I’m gonna take my roll cuz I ain’t got nothin’ to lose
And I’m gonna save your soul if it’s really what you want me to do

(Repeat chorus)

Get on your knees

I’m your rock n roll Jesus.

(R.J. Ritchie, M. Young, K. Tudrick)
(c) 2007 RJR Publishing / Jo Ray Dean Music (BMI) / Bulldog Detroit (BMI).

I got my Cat Scratch Fever eight-track
My best friend’s in a gun rack
I’m a lowlife
I owe everybody money
I think racist jokes are funny
I’m a lowlife
I got a dirty mind, a gutter mouth
I’m makin’ time, I’m goin’ out
With your wife

Cuz I’m a lowlife
I’m a lowlife

I got kids I never seen
And their momma’s seventeen
I’m a lowlife
I take strippers out to breakfast
You can add that to my checklist
I’m a lowlife
Ahh the landlord called the rent is due
I spent it all on a Kiss tattoo
I Rock n Roll all night

Cuz I’m a lowlife
I’m a lowlife
I’m a lowlife
Livin’ the highlife

I’m watchin’ porno on the TV
Wonderin’ why she’d ever leave me
I’m a lowlife
The object of my affection
Asked the police for protection
I’m a lowlife
The romance is gone, I’m doin’ fine
Me and your mom had a real good time
Just last night

Cuz I’m a lowlife
I’m a lowlife

I make black music for the white man
Keep cocaine upon my nightstand
I’m a lowlife
Ain’t never hung out in the Catskills
But I’ve been to jail in Nashville
I’m a lowlife
I’ve got a dirty mind, a gutter mouth
I’m makin’ time, I’m goin’ out
With your wife

I’m a lowlife
I’m a lowlife
I’m a lowlife
Livin’ the highlife.

Hey now darlin’, you thought it was all fun and games
Runnin’ ’round, telling everyone why we’re not together
I guess you just had to feel important
And I’m sure you thought I was just gonna sit back and take it on the chin
But honey, I’m a songwriter
And that darling is where you end and this song begins

Chorus:
I found someone new who treats me better
She don’t bitch about things we ain’t got
When I sing this tune it don’t upset her
She’s half your age and twice as hot

Oh she wakes up every morning and she folds my clothes
Doesn’t care about the strippers dancing at my shows
She knows that I love her so I just wanted you to know

(Chorus) !yee haw!yeah!.. (Chorus)

Oh she don’t start trouble cuz she dont need drama
She likes it in the mornin’ and she loves my momma
I’m her big poppa an she’s my little rock n roll

(Chorus)

She’s half your age and twice as hot
She’s half your age and twice as hot.

All my life I’ve been searchin’
All my life I’ve been uncertain
I been abandoned and left alone
At fifteen I had to leave home
The black sheep, the bad seed

At a roadside bar in Tennessee
I met an angel to rescue me
She rescued me
She wore blue jeans and a rosary
Believed in God and believed in me
All her friends think she’s a little crazy
She wears a smile, heart on her sleeve
Don’t give a damn what the world thinks of me
She tells me it’s all good
She’s happy with a bad seed
Happy to be misunderstood

Two packs and a pint a day
To hide the shame
And wash away the pain
Aww the pain
Every road was a dead-end street
Runnin’ from the law
And runnin’ on empty
You couldn’t shake the marks that were left on me

At a roadside bar in Tennessee
I met an angel to rescue me
She rescued me

She wore blue jeans and a rosary
Believed in God and believed in me
All her friends think she’s a little crazy
She wears a smile, heart on her sleeve
Don’t give a damn what the world thinks of me
She tells me it’s all good
She’s happy with a bad seed
Happy to be misunderstood

(Repeat)

Misunderstood
Misunderstood.