Made You Look (Remix) [feat. Nas]

歌詞

[Jadakiss] I need it from the top, AHHH! This is history baby Commissioner Steve Stoute, Lenny -gha! God's Son, whattup? D-Block, whattup? Bravehearts, whattup? Yeah Yeah, yo [Jadakiss] Yo ain't nothin but trouble God When I kick in the door with D-Block, Bravehearts and the Double R Don't make me let the machine off This is methadone music that you can lean off "Made You Look," the remix with me up on it I copped your shit, now I break weed up on it And everything is real I see Like my niggaz that been home but they only got a jail ID I helped the game, it ain't help me I'm top five dead or alive and that's just off one LP And, I still buzz, they feel cuz Cause they know the flow's Ill just like Will was I'm just tryin to make su2e that my sons wealthy Out of shape but I make sure that my guns healthy I'm a ape, you can't stand 'Kiss Comin through the hood in a Aston Vanquish the color of dandruff They said we jumped him, I just let the gun snuff him Copped P then turbo soon as they uncuff him This goes out to all of your mans Why put you in the verse when I can put in a coroner van D-Block [Nas] They shootin'! Ah made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangsters, where them dimes at? [Nas] They shootin'! Ah made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangsters at, where them dimes at? [Ludacris] Yuh, woo! It's time to go, Luda let's go! I'm from the school of hard knocks, sneak peeks and low blows Where X's mark spots and snithes mark O's Where love is gon' getcha and hate is gon' snitch ya And fingers squeeze triggers like boa constrictors It's the, Mr. Luda, Jada and Nas And our bullets give you a deep tissue massage So hear a song and dance while I make these ends You never stood half a chance like Siamese Twins Ahhh ' They shootin'!, look in the barrel Then he made the front page of the Miami Herald or Chi. Tribune, nozzles with silent doom We in that A-Town Journal-list, filed with goons You should print my information, quote my rhyme And keep me in between these New York and L.A. Times I was the victim of society, it's 'Cris the menace With mo' shit out on the streets than evicted tenants WOOOOOOOOW! [Nas] They shootin'! Ah made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangsters, where them dimes at? [Nas] They shootin'! Ah made you look You a slave to a page in my rhyme book Getting' big money, playboy your time's up Where them gangsters at, where them dimes at? (Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!, Bravehearts!) Jungle, Wiz, Nashawn! We got 'em scared look We got 'em scared they runnin'! [Nas] Yo, I grasp the ratchet, the blinker, the biscuit, the burner The heat, the toaster, the twister you meetin your owner The banger, the hammer, the flamers I aim at the cannons and can ya, manhandling ya, you'll be famous like cancer do And cut, that's the end of your movie Pretending you actin like you and your mens'll come shoot me My tennis shoes Gucci, old school pea soup green Jean Lee suit on Beaver, clicko champagne Friday the 13th my CD drop, I rhyme to more Base than EZ Rock I'm Jason, call up P.D. watch them Bravehearts, Jungle and Wiz and Nashawn Ill Will rasta Lake, never revealing his face on TV or pictures or even them niggaz Sorry that I made you wait long, glad them fakes gone We shootin'! Squeezin' them triggers with Luda beside me Me and 'Kiss get Luniz of weed, set to Styles P. Tell him hold his head, God's Son got him we made y'all look From San Quentin to Riker's Island to..