Artist: Nas
Album:  Life Is Good
Song:   Nasty
Typed by: kirenamloh@msn.com

[Intro] 
Y'all ready for Nas? {*crowd cheers*}
Queensbridge, y'all ready to see Nasty Nas? {*crowd cheers*}
Ah-hah, they ready

[Nas]
Yeah...Word...
Got some Remy Martin and some good-ass cigars, check it out

Aiyyo late night, candlelight, fiend with diesel in his needle
Queensbridge leader, no equal
I come from the Wheel of Ezekiel
to pop thousand dollar bottles of Scotch, smoke pot and heal the people
Any rebuttal to what I utter get box-cuttered
Count how many bad honeys I slut, it's a high number
Name a nigga under the same sky that I'm under
Who gets money, remain fly? Yeah, I wonder
Eyes flutter as love when Nas pops up
Stars get starstruck, panties start drippin
The ways of Carlito, blaze, torpedo cigars
Drop Rolls, hoes drop clothes
Louis the XIII freaks, women nice size
I ride like Porsches, thick, brown and gorgeous
It ain't my fault, semiautomatic weapons
I brought the world “Crazy,” I'm rich and I’m girl-crazy
Dick 'em, convince 'em all to praise me
They ideology is confusion, I lose 'em
Fellates me, who hate me? My gun off safety
Since the Tunnel and Skate Key, my jewelry in HD

Silent rage, pristine in my vintage shades
I'm not in the +Winters+ of my life or the beginner stage, I am the +dragon+
Maserati pumpin Biggie, the great legend
Blastin, I'm after the actress who played Faith Evans
My little Jackie Onassis, dig?
I'm so high, I never land like Mike Jackson's crib
Best on 45, still crack ya rib 
Sacrilege, talk trash about the Nasty, kid
Past +Nasty+ now, I'm gross and repulsive, talk money
Is you jokin? Cash everywhere, in my bank, in the sofa
In the walls, in the cars, in my wallet, in my pocket
On the floors, ceiling, the safe, bitch I got it 
You envy but don’t offend me 
I'm skinny, but still I'm too big for a Bentley
You are your car, what could represent me?
Too godly to be a Bugatti, you honestly, must design 
me somethin Tommy Montana from Queens had before the 90s
Drug dealer car, rush to the bar
Move niggaz, we don't give a FUCK who you are
Black card heavy like a magnet, in my stitched denims
Pretty women see them them saggin 
Bet a hundred stacks, niggaz'll run it back
Just havin fun, I ain't even begun to black 
Light another blunt in fact, haha...

(Nasty) Nasty kid 
(Nasty) Yeah...
(Nasty) The kid! (Nasty) Yeah... (Nasty) Nasty kid

For the hustlers, thick as yellow bitches for the suck of it
Got a bunch of niggaz in prison braggin 
Sayin, "It was Nas I used to hustle with"
I display fashions while my lungs engage hashes, guns on my waist, past this
Since I'm cakin up, put funds in my safe, laughin
and joining the blunt passin, you niggaz was straight assin
Excuse the vulgarity, I'm still not fully adjusted
or used to the new fans hearin me spit rapidly
I never see the whips niggaz be claimin they drivin
I guess entertainment means blatantly lyin
Fake it 'til you make it, I've driven those toys
Been in the wars, in the streets, cops kickin in doors
For my deen nigga, yo' flow cheap as limousine liquor
I’m no fake rap CD listener
Sit back and roll a mean Swisher
For my Gs, tell these clowns make room for the king, nigga