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Nas - Zone Out lyrics
(feat. Bravehearts) Braveheart for life [sample - repeated 8x "Z-z-z-zone Out"] So y'all wit me? Yea, What, Yea Why don't y'all blast on these niggas, man Tuck in your chain put your watch in your pocket Here come the Braveheart straight out the projects We live the life where the blood spills Same thing that get you cats nigga, get you killed Warnin', Jungle always keep a gun on him Pull out, {*shooting sound*}, four head gone 'n Sloppy, droppin' you birds Close range so my bullets don't swerve, curve No bullshit Back in ya hand, find me Call Earl, death is the ways of the world Y'all made criminals Tryin' to wild out there so crack, bust guns at Bow Wow's age Fightin' in jail, lookin' for heaven, livin' in hell Fuckin 'em hos, born to cope since I was 12 Way too foul walk around all the time With a gray Mack 10 and a pocket full o' dimes Braveheart to the graveyard, let's go niggas Scared straight, but FUCK them hos Keep it, dead serious Believe it don't believe us, until you see me creepin', Now you sleep with them fishes G-W-I-Z, so delicious To all them ghetto and sober bitches in 'burban districts I'm movin on passin' chumps, and very thoroughly promoted by God's Son And this is the military turn it up My moves erase a ton, your son less thump nah Heat talk feet walk you run uh Rat ta-tat, Hear them shots come Drop son, pull out You better send 'em back son, or feel that casket The peeps be like one (one) I'm movin on passin' chumps, and very thoroughly promoted by God's Son G-O-D S-O-N I S-O-O-T-H-E a female's estrogen With my testosterone, male hormone Enough for a giant's body, science S-C-I-E-N-C-E Don't tempt me, EMS against you, me I'm just, invincible Like Mike Jack said, for me and Al Sharpton won't be Broke in Harlem That's that, who made this style, solo or X Are you TFO's doctor or Mobb Deep Whoever, I freaked it yes, so meet ya death I never wear Esco, I got a New Line comin' like cinemas Remember the, original, y'all still tryina show niggas are rich Town house niggas I'm six cribs deep, six bank accounts in six countries Na I'm lyin', who gives a fuck that's so tired While pictures of Bravehearts just livin' it up A million of us, each nigga inchin' a bus You got a house in Virginia The only way you sicker than us Gettin' bagged with .22's now you's a ridiculous fuck No need for the gun play, it's ok, 'cause you dyin' anyway Yo, this is for them Heismann drop outs Niggas who copped out If you prefer shots over knockouts Sniffin' coke, smokin' weed Sellin' crack, sellin' smack You thuggin' it, you ain't turn it back Braveheart's gettin' money ruthless 'till the world end Gettin' high with my enemy's girlfriend I used to have a bike on a bench Now I got a jeep on this trip Coke in the pot, heat on my head Nigga dont stop blazin' cuz ya target's movin' Shoot 'till the gun's empty stupid, Queens Niggas so ruthless, really excuses is Useless to these swift executioners And thats Queensbridge nigga, all day Pump packs o' crack, smoke purple haze Runnin from D's quickly knockout rookies G Wiz you know what I'm all about To all my real niggas [sample - repeated until end "Z-z-z-zone Out"] |
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