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Meet Joe Black

Nas

Magic


Why would I ever have to cop a chain again
When the QB chain birthed most the chains in the game?
No post office was stampin' time
Took out a slice out of the Big Apple, made apple pies, family sized
Leather bombers and Nike Sacais
Dangerous corners, you better pray that tomorrow arrives
Rap Sugar Ray Robinson, nothin' sweet
Y'all too out of shape to even box with me
Heavyweight, I know my way around the ring
Just like shawty know her way around the store
Makin' hits with Hit-Boy, all he gotta do is hit record
Record breakin' news, had to show up just to fill a void
Confused spoiler, oh, boys, y'all better keep your poise
Leave me out of the weasel shit
Be cool when you see me, I'm higher than all that rap diva shit
The hood know you pussy so we don't buy or believe in it
Locked in on the instrumental, I took back the key to this, uh

Run me the keys, run me the Bs, run me that flow back
Your top three, I'm not number one, how could you post that?
I wear the crown, the city is mine, you cannot hold that
I'm not the one to go at, you fuck around, meet Joe Black
Run me the keys, run me the Bs, run me that flow back (What I'm sayin')
Your top three, I'm not number one, how could you post that? (Uh)
I wear the crown, the city is mine, you cannot hold that (Yeah)
I'm not the one to go at, you fuck around, meet Joe Black

What I'm sayin', people sayin' what's already been said
Predictions, I don't listen, it's already in my head, no funny shit
Your most hungry place, I was past that at twenty-eight
Underground tapes, that's my ASCAP and publishing stakes
As we slide in the G-ride
I been gettin' criticized, it's keepin' me energized
Create with a business mind, I'm from where killers reside
A wild hood, only knew goons since my childhood
Niggas say anything in they raps 'cause it sound good
Don't even mean what they say, horrible outlook
Y'all ain't really 'bout this, house nigs
Y'all was in the house with it
We don't respect fake jewellery and silly outfits
Window down, blowin' out kush
Gray tints, New York's J Prince on Houston Street
I caught the bounce before my nigga even bounced the beat
I took the hard way in this shit, man, it's the route for me, uh

Run me the keys, run me the Bs, run me that flow back
Your top three, I'm not number one, how could you post that?
I wear the crown, the city is mine, you cannot hold that
I'm not the one to go at, you fuck around, meet Joe Black
Run me the keys, run me the Bs, run me that flow back
Your top three, I'm not number one, how could you post that?
I wear the crown, the city is mine, you cannot hold that
I'm not the one to go at, you fuck around, meet Joe Black

Why would I ever have to cop a chain again
When the QB chain birthed most the chains in the game?
Why would I?
For real talk, the nigga who killed hip-hop for real is Nas, dog
That nigga killed hip-hop, hip-hop is dead
That nigga went and told everybody about it
He came out publicly and said, "Hip-hop is dead"

Compositores: Nasir Jones, Alexander Hollis Chauncey
ECAD: Obra #34783680

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