Back to the previous page

Artist: Nas
Album:  Stillmatic (Circuit City)
Song:   No Idea's Original
Typed by: *

* send corrections to the typist

All my jail niggas...Big Lake...whattup nigga...this goes out to the big
dreamers...ain't nothin' new man..we been doin' this...this shit gon'
keep goin' on forever baby...

No ideas original, theres nothin' new under the sun
it's never what you do but how it's done 
what you base your happiness around, material women and large paper
thats means you're inferior, not major 

[Verse 1]
If niggas could look inside my mind you'll find where bodies are buried,
first look past the hotties who dimes
go to the center, enter with caution 
pass the braincell graveyard where weed's responsible for memory losses
witness the horrific, the stench will make you nauseus
see what I seen, everyday I live with this torture
lightin' spliffs up to stay high like Twenty-Four hours
sleep with my heat, wash with my gun in the shower
my tongue is power, it thrills women, kills demons
long as I'm still breathin' I'm still winnin', I'll teach 'em 
the hood converted from trey bags to Twenties of girl
everybody had money, every summer was real ill
Four-finger rings, dope dealers, Kane
no half-steppin' with flat tops, but Rakim reigned
radios on card tables, Beneton, the Gods buildin'
as for todays mathematics, we Allahs children
and this was goin' on in every Newyork ghetto
kids listened, five-percenters said it's pork in jello 
we coincide, we in the same life 
maybe a time difference on a different coast but we share the same

[Chorus] 2x

[Verse 2]
Your part of the World might be light colors and gangs 
while on my side Brothers will murder for different things
but it all revolves around drugs, fame, and shorties
stuck for your bling, stripped of your chain, the same story 
from Czechoslovakia to Texas metropolis 
the treachorous rastas and the Mexican mafias
be scrappin' with tats on their back, violent wars
nothin' less than a lethal injection if ever caught 
court rooms, eagles, and flags, American style
while in our World the ghetto stays incredibly foul
watchin' for paint chips, don't want no led in your child
but them gangstas put led in your child, the bezzys be out
the chain be like a Hundred K
shinin' since Roxanne Shante made runaway
thats been a minute, genesis is deep, my features are that of a God
it's not a fassad, it's a fact these rappers wanna be Nas
my exodus doesn't exist, I'll never leave the streets 
it's all in my mind even when asleep 
I'm duckin' Nines in my dreams 
sireens, wide awake, why'd I think it would change? 
can't hide when you're famous or even try to do the same things 
like somebody's always watchin' 
my life, before I walk out the door I size up every options 
eyes cut every direction, it's like God or guns
which is better protection? can't decide, thats a hard one 
I mean they wanna see me in prison 
their chain's bamboozled
headline reading "Rapper dead from a Man shooting". 

[Chorus] 2x