Back to the previous page

Artist: Nas f/ Cocaine 80s
Album:  Life Is Good
Song:   Where's the Love
Typed by:

[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