Artist: Nas f/ Cocaine 80s Album: Life Is Good Song: Where's the Love Typed by: Gundress03@yahoo.com [Verse One: Nas] At times I window watch at the Wynn hotel Lots of thinking happens in life, will I win or fail? Mind of a shooter, CFO also Ethiopian food flown in, it's unlawful Money is attractive, honey dress strapless Agent Provocateur underwear: she's classic Stroll up in the party: titanium black car Romanian ladies like Casablanca, Casbah 'Cept we in the VIP area, that's ours You know the real rap gods, typical trap star turned rap star These old heads got stories, the days they was kings I pray secret indictments don't take away their dreams You 16, you could do 20, come home young Catch 20 years when you 40? Holmes, you're done What have we become? Rap stars from trap stars Black gods to Ansars to Sunnis back to goonies A 360 in the streets real grizzly Shooters is cold, kid, the old shit was learning Student enrollment to focus, yet hooligans roll with Toasters to pop your medullas off of your shoulders This ain't the Truman Show; it's the human show Ask the F.B.I. agent at his cubicle Chewing on his pencil eraser with intents to erase you It's U.S.A. against the gangsta, where's the love? [Chorus: Cocaine 80s] Love, I'll trade you love I've traded fire with you long enough Is that all you brung? It's not love That's fucked up, but I saved your soul Roll that up [Verse Two: Nas] Sometimes I sit on the bench just to watch the game Feet on cement, there ain't a mobster living I could name Who made it out rich, in his absence I do not proclaim To not have a heart like wild animals not tamed Maybe just a typical thug nigga was my rank 'Cept I had a vision above niggas, what I think It's crazy how many brothers come where I come from Some made it out big, some dead, some unsung Shots for soldiers on 23 hours lock-up Younger generation, they want to mimic and mock us Laughing, separating themselves like they not us, like "Cops'll look at you like they look at me? That's preposterous" Ain't it gangsta how your man made it? I'm humble One gun, one crazy ass nigga, that's Jungle Now we having babies, cause growing up it was just us No uncles or cousins to fight with us, we was fucked up But still it was beautiful, the love is mutual Even though me and Jung ain't show up to your funeral I hold your son hand, tell him he the man, we love you Your pops was king, you have a whole lot to live up to The G is in your genes, already you tuck Inherit your dad's swag, it's George Jefferson's strut Stay flyest, they gon' want to know what in your diet Don't be surprised if they want to check your shit and your vomit Tell them you let it marinate, they swear you made them a promise No matter what they do, you just stay a man of honor I'm a street corner nigga, New York Knicks loyalist Corona sipper, pass it out, might blow it with you It ain't the Truman show; it's the human show Ask the F.B.I. agent at his cubicle Chews on his pencil eraser with intents to erase you Young brother go and get your paper, I got love [Chorus]