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Uhh, what, what, uhh.. |
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Chorus: Nas (set to Eurythmics "Sweet Dreams") |
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Street dreams are made of these |
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Niggaz push Beemers and 300 E's |
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A drug dealer's destiny is reaching a key |
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Everybody's looking for somethin.. |
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Street dreams are made of these |
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Shorties on they knees, for niggaz with big G's |
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Who am I to disagree? |
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Everybody's looking for something.. |
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[Nas] |
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My man put me up for the share, one-fourth of a square |
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Headed for Delaware, with one change of gear |
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Nothing on my mind but the dime sack we blazed |
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with the glaze in my eye, that we find when we crave |
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dollars and cents, a fugitive with two attempts |
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Jakes had no trace of the face, now they drew a print |
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Though I'm innocent 'til proven guilty |
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I'ma try to filthy, purchase a club and start up a realty |
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For real G, I'ma fulfil my dream |
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If I conceal my scheme, then precisely I'll build my cream |
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the first trip without the clique |
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Sent the bitch with the quarter brick, this is it |
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Fresh face, NY plates got a Crooked I for the Jakes |
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I want it all, ArmorAll Benz and endless papes |
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God's sake, what nigga got to do to make a half million |
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without the FBI catching feelings |
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Chorus |
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[Nas] |
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From fat cat to papi, niggas see the cat |
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Twenty-five to flat, push a thousand feet back |
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Holding gats wasn't making me fat, snitches on my back |
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Living with Moms, getting it on, flushing crack down the toilet |
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Two sips from being alcoholic |
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Nine hundred ninety nine thou from being rich but now I'm all for it |
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My man saw it like Dionne Warwick |
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A wiser team, for a wiser dream we could all score with |
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The cartel Argentina coke with the Nina |
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Up in the hotel, smoking on sessamina |
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Trina got the fishscale between her |
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The way the bitch shook her ass yo the dogs never seen her |
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She got me back living sweeter, fresh Caesar |
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Guess, David Robinson's, Walle' moccasins |
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Bitches blow me while hopping in the drop-top BM |
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Word is bond son, I had that bitch down on my shit like this |
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Chorus |
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[Nas] |
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Growing up project-struck, looking for luck dreaming |
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Scoping the large niggas beaming, check what I'm seeing |
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Cars, ghetto stars pushing ill Europeans |
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G'n, heard about them old timers OD'n |
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Young, early '80's, throwing rocks at the crazy lady |
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Worshipping every word them rope rocking niggaz gave me |
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The street raised me up, giving a fuck |
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I thought Jordan's and a gold chain was living it up |
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I knew the dopes, the pushers, the addicts everybody |
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Cut out of class, just to smoke blunts and drink naughty |
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Ain't that funny? Getting put on to crack money |
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With all the gunplay, painting the kettle black hungry |
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A case of beers in the staircase I wasted years |
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Some niggas went for theirs, flipping coke as they career |
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But I'm a rebel stressing, to pull out of the heat no doubt |
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With Jeeps tinted out, spending never holding out |
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Chorus 2X |
